


My Booth is Better Than Yours

by lazilywayward



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Cussing, F/M, Fluff and Humor, I Don't Even Know, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-03
Updated: 2018-03-17
Packaged: 2018-04-02 15:48:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 23,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4065634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lazilywayward/pseuds/lazilywayward
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Where Thorin and Bilbo are rival booths at the Farmer’s Market. Flowers, tacos, and inappropriate gestures with squash ensue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Saturday Morning

Tauriel flipped on the bathroom light and winced. A noise between a groan and a whimper slipped out as she mentally cursed vodka, Legolas, and the end of finals week. Going out for a drink to celebrate seemed like a perfect ending to a week of stolen sleep, way too many Americanos, and stress eating gummy bears while reviewing her nearly illegible notes. One drink, as always, snowballed into taking shots between singing karaoke and making a stop for greasy tacos on the way home.

“Tacos! Leggy, pretty please buddy? I’ll be your friend?”

“Tauriel, no. Dad can smell it on us.” He seemed to think a moment. “And I would think we’ve been friends since we built that cardboard pirate’s ship in my backyard.” 

“Uh, BEST friends,” she giggled, “so as my best friend, you are supposed to support my bad choices.” Tauriel leaned over the center console of Legolas’s Prius, making ridiculous doe-eyes.

Legolas sighed. “Fine. Next time, you’re the designated driver.” He made a quick turn to double back to the taco shop, acknowledging his passenger’s hoot of victory with a small smile.

 

“Fili! Fili, TACOS.”  
Fili’s eyes slid over to his brother, smelling strongly of cheap whisky, face lit up with the inability to know when one more was too many. “No.”

“YES.”

“Uh, still no.” Fili reconsidered for a moment at a red light. “Fine, but you’re buying.”

Kili smirked as they made a tight turn into the parking lot. Then he started to frown as he searched for loose change in the cup holders and between the seats. 

In the drive-thru line another car pulled up close.

Kili, who had turned sideways to get a better look at the menu (“Oh, so you don’t have it memorized?” his brother teased), paused in his ordering, squinting to make out the occupants lit by the bright lights of the Open 24-hours! sign.

“Oi, is that all?” Fili asked, then looked back over his shoulder to see what the trouble was, doing a double take as he recognized the people behind them.  
The brother’s eyes met as they both turned to face forward, a silent understanding and agreement made as their car pulled up to the first window.

The window slammed open. “Okay, that’ll be $4.42.” 

“Yeah, uh, hey. What did the car behind me order?” Fili squeaked (“Get it together man!” Kili hissed playfully. That earned a light smack to his chest).

The teller looked at him, deadpanning “I’m sorry sir, but that would violate the Order Taker-Customer Privacy Code.”

Kili let out a chuff. “Just let us pay for whatever they got, ok?”

The teller sighed, looking through the bits of paper in his hands. “Okay, new total. $8.63.

 

 

The teller was frowning at the handful of coins and crumpled bills they’d thrust upon him, muttering, “Why are some of these sticky?” when the next car pulled up.

“How much do I owe you again?” Legolas asked, reaching for his wallet.

“Hm? Oh, the car in front of you already paid. Here’s your tacos.”

Legolas looked surprised as he reached for the bag, thinking about the unexpected kindness of strangers and rainbows and trees of green and things of that ilk.

Tauriel, seeing the car of taco-payers pulling onto the main street, sprung from the car and shouted “Thank you!” as she waved emphatically.

Legolas, used to this kind of enthusiastic display, glanced at the teller. “Thanks,” he muttered with a nod of his head, feeling a little uneasy.

“Don’t worry. We see these things all the time.”

 

 

“Urgh, people.” Tauriel grouched as she set down a box of cucumbers and lemons. Hungover without even the promise of coffee. Caffeine, alcohol, and all other naughty foods were banned in the Green household.

“Oh, come on, darling. They aren’t all bad.” Thranduil floated about, setting up his weekly spot at the market: three super-powered blenders; boxes overflowing with beets, limes, carrots, and apples; a chalkboard to list the day’s specials.

He paused as she brought in another box filled with fragrant herbs. He sniffed.  
“These are from that,” he lazily waved towards another section of the market, “one charming booth with the teas, correct?” He plucked a leaf of oregano.

“Mm-hm.” Tauriel personally thought it was just a bit too early to hold an intelligent conversation when one’s head was pounding to the beat of cheesy 90s songs. She got started writing the day’s juices and shakes in her flowing script. As she propped the chart up in front of their spot, Legolas brought her one of their specialties, a tomato-based concoction lauded for its hangover-curing abilities. 

“Thanks buddy.” She sipped. “This is really clashing with that lovely oil aftertaste from the tacos.”

He made a face. “I brushed my teeth before bed AND when I woke up and I still taste taquitos.”

“Taquitos?” His father asked as he brought out the cash box. 

Tauriel widened her eyes and quickly sipped her drink. Traitor, Legolas thought.

“Uh, yeah Dad. We stopped for a quick snack on the way home last night.” Legolas smiled innocently.

“A quick snack?” His dad huffed. “An apple is a quick snack. A handful of almonds is quick. Dead animal flesh wrapped in fried corn? Not so much.” He arched an eyebrow, fixing them with a look before turning away. 

“Found the vegan,” Tauriel whispered mischievously under her breath. The two friends shared a little smirk over their guilty pleasure before lining up behind the table. The early shoppers were beginning to funnel through.


	2. Try Something New

“Watch it!” Thorin grouched.

“Sorry, Uncle!” Kili spun out of the way just before he collided with his uncle and the stack of boxes.

Thorin set the boxes down heavily. “Can you two just not do this for one morning? You’re college students, not children,” he grumbled.

Kili held his hands up. “No shenanigans, promise.”

Fili paused, a cucumber in each hand. “Absolutely.”

Their uncle grumbled some more to the chard and kale bunches he was gently patting into neat piles. Fili finished his pyramid of cucumbers and went to help his brother who was struggling to pin their family farm’s banner up. 

The morning was still and grey, the sun not coloring the streets with its buttery rays just yet; the chirruping of little song birds could be heard. Later, the quiet would ebb away to the buzz of the market: couples debating their choices, plastic bags snapping open, and some of the more boisterous sellers imitating carnival barkers. 

“Thorin!” Bofur cheerfully called as he popped open the back of the bakery’s delivery van. “Have ya eaten? Bombur is trying out mulberries this week, makes a pretty decent jam, not too keen on it on my pastries though, maybe you and the boys want to give it a try?” 

The boys in question appeared at the table, as though the mention of food was a summoning charm. 

Bofur kept laying out the packages and bags of breads and other sweet things from the back of the van as he chattered good-naturedly. “Ever seen a mulberry? I hadn’t, myself, ‘til last week Bombur comes waddling back to the van with three vats of these weird little berries, well, maybe not little, more like a long strand…you know what? Picture a blackberry, stretched out skinny-like. That’s a mulberry.” 

Thorin had met the brothers Bofur and Bombur in college. More on the quiet side himself, he was perfectly content to let the more talkative people in his life fill in the gaps where his conversation skills lacked.

Except for Dis. Dis would stare him down in silence if he gave one too many monosyllabic answers at their weekly Sibling Catch-up Dinner. 

“What do you think? Bombur’s wanting feedback.” Bofur was squinting a bit as Fili and Kili chewed their chunks of sweet bread swirled through with purplish jam.

“Different,” Kili spoke around the crumbs dropping from his mouth.

“Tart,” Fili clarified, dusting the sticky crumbs from his fingers.

“Thorin?” 

“Maybe mixed with something else? Like another fruit?”

Bofur nodded, hands on his hips. “That’s what Bifur thought too. We made up some mulberry-pear pies to sell, but Bombur insisted we put out these loafs too. Well, we’ll see how they do. He likes to try new things.”

 

A few spots down, Dori is carefully stacking tins of tea. He likes everything to be just so. Ori, used to his idiosyncrasies, is patiently waiting.

“Where’s- “

“The chamomile? Here.” Ori hands it over.

“Oh, thank you.” A pause as it’s placed to the right of the peppermint. “Now where is that-“

“Earl Grey? Here.” 

“Oh, yes, we’ll need that.” 

The thing about Dori, is that everything is laid out neatly inside his mind. Outside of it, things have a tendency to go “wandering off” as he puts it. Ori privately refers to it as something else, but keeps track of these things on his behalf. It’s what family does. 

“And how are we putting the flowers?” Bilbo asks, tilting his head.

Dori looks up from placing the tea labels, “Let me get the diagram.” 

Bilbo’s eyebrows draw together, but smooth out as Dori pulls his pad of paper from his bag with a bit of a flourish.

Dori likes things just so.

Bilbo knows this. As someone who has lived alone nearly all of his adult life, he can appreciate the quiet satisfaction of uninterrupted routine; the simple pleasure of knowing you are going to have things go just as you like them is comfortable. Or it was, until a week ago when a rock was thrown in the still pond that had become his middle age. 

Last Saturday was unseasonably warm. The kind of day that has no place in early spring, when the sun is not softly warm but belligerently blazing, causing people who care not a whit about the weather to look at each other and ask “Why?” and others to cautiously respond “Global warming?”

The heat would have been a mildly discomforting feature of last Saturday if it was not preceded by That Night. The night Ori, quiet, sweet Ori, had reached the end of his rope and decided his metaphorical limit was not in fact rope but a dynamite fuse. Bilbo counted it among his top three Vastly Uncomfortable (Not My Family) Family Dinners. But that episode is for another time. 

As it was, Dori and Ori clearly had an uneasy truce between them to at least get through that morning’s market. Bilbo had joined the family for dinner last Friday, as it was the eve before his first time helping at the booth. A nice get together, before a new experience that made Bilbo just a little anxious; he was set in his ways, after all. At his first morning it seemed to be mutually (and silently) decided that all would proceed as though it was a fine spring morning to be educating the populace on the delights found in brewing your own tea. Or something along those lines, instead of Dori being short and cross with everything, literally; Bilbo might have heard him curse his pen for being so inconsiderate as to run out of ink. Ori seemed to have developed his own force field of discontentment. Fearing to set either off, Bilbo pushed himself out of his comfort zone, exuberantly engaging with the people walking by, offering samples and uncapping tins, pulling people in to buy something they hadn’t set out for perhaps- 

“But take home enough for at least one cup, you know you’ll need a break after shopping all morning!”

And 

“Every home is made more cheerful by flowers! Oh, you’re allergic? How about these tulips, then?”

It had been a successful Saturday, more so than Bilbo had thought it could be when Dori had proposed the idea a few weeks ago at the shop. Sighing with satisfaction, Bilbo mistakenly fooled himself into thinking everyone had cooled off enough to be excited for lunch (he personally was always excited by the prospect of food). The brothers quickly corrected that assumption.

“No, I am quite ready to be back home, thank you.” Dori carefully ducked into his messenger bag, and had made it a comically far distance before he realized Ori had not fallen into step behind him. “Well come on Ori!” he called, a bit flustered.

Ori crossed his arms and leaned forward a bit, “No.” 

“What? No? Going to walk home are you?!”

“Maybe I will!” Ori was shouting now and dear god, had actually stomped his foot. Bilbo tried, really tried, to look worried and not amused.

Dori shuffled the box in his arms, as though unsure of whether to put it down right there or not. “Stop it, we’ll discuss this at home.”

“Well maybe I don’t want to be at home.” 

Dori’s arms tilted down so quickly he nearly dropped his box. Then he smacked it right down at his feet and began stomping back to Ori but did not have far to go, as the pent-up anger Ori had been stewing in all morning propelled him forward. Bilbo’s hand leapt to his mouth.

Dori had begun pointing his finger a few paces away, hissing, “Now I thought we had decided to leave this be for, for now, Ori!” 

Ori responded by abruptly knocking his brother’s finger away from his face. 

Bilbo responded by taking a half-step forward and glancing around at the people beginning to take notice. 

“I don’t want to ‘leave it be’ Dori! I’m an adult now, not a child!” Ori was struggling to control the volume of his voice.

“Yes fine, you’re an adult, you’re so grown up now at twenty years old!” Dori huffed. “But you live under my roof, and as such-“

“Well, what if I didn’t?”

Dori was stuck dumb for a moment. “Well, you do-“

“Well not anymore! I’m, I’m moving out.”

Bilbo, now that he was certain the two would not come to blows, was concerned about the attention they were now definitely the center of. Really, he thought as he looked at the remaining vendors slowly packing up. It does not take that long to crate up eggs. 

Dori made a choked sound (between a grunt and a chuckle, he would explain to Bofur later).  
“Oh yeah, where? Going to crash on your friend’s couch are you? See how long that lasts you!”

“No! No, I’ll…” Ori faltered.

Bilbo was beginning to feel exceedingly awkward for all three of them. “Ori?” he began softly.

“I’ll move in with Bilbo!” Ori declared, as though it was the most obvious thing.

It was not obvious to Bilbo.

“What?” Dori asked, entirely too still.

“What?” Bilbo asked, faintly.


	3. Well That Was Unexpected

“Did you hear about Ori?”

Thorin flinched at the crack, looking up from filing away a few bills. Dwalin had smacked his calloused hands down on the table in his eagerness. Thorin waited; Dwalin seemed hard and stoic with his shaved head and tattoo sleeves, but was hopeless for a bit of gossip. 

“You haven’t then? Ha, Ori moved out. Yep, last Saturday he and Dori were fighting like cats right after market closed. Right in front of my booth, they were going at it.”

“Dori raised his voice?” Thorin frowned. “In public? What were they fighting about?”

“Not sure what about, but I bet anyone would get fed up living with Dori’s fussing for so many years. I started packing up my eggs slow as I could get away with to hear more.”

He stepped to the side as a customer bought a few bunches of kale. 

“They seem to be fine today though. Must be the distance is doing them some good.” Dwalin sounded disappointed. Then he caught sight of Fili eating from a pie tin. “Pie’s not breakfast, lad. I don’t care what Bombur claims.”  
Fili said thickly, “Oh leave off, Dwalin. I’m hungry. I was up driving this one around most of the night,” he stabbed his fork at Kili, “and missed breakfast.” 

“Hey, don’t blame me, I bought you a burrito. You don’t eat it that’s your problem.”

Fili mumbled into his pie, “Wasn’t hungry then.”

Dwalin tutted. “What’s got his panties in a bunch?” 

“What’s got in whose panties?” Thorin asked.

Fili threw his fork into the nearly empty pie tin and stomped off, passing Bofur who was rearranging his baked goods.

“Enjoy the mulberry-pear pie then?” Bofur asked cheerfully. Fili muttered something unintelligible. “He having lady troubles?” this was directed to Kili. 

“Erm, something like that.” Kili glanced at Dwalin and tried to covertly slide over to the other side of the little space. It didn’t work.

Dwalin’s face turned smug. “And what of your lady?”

Kili started neatening up the pile of star squash. “I don’t have ‘a lady’.”

“Ohhhh, you don’t now? Forgot the ‘redheaded goddess’ already?” Kili’s neck was turning pink. Dwalin crossed his arms, settling in. “What was it you said? ‘Mister Dwalin, she’s all high cheekbones and creamy skin.’ You’ve had, what? Three months to ask her out?”

Kili was rolling the squash around now, still not meeting anyone’s eye. “I’ve tried! It’s just, I don’t know what to say.”

“Well, good luck finding the words now. It’s summertime. Probably forget all about her come fall.”

Dwalin thought that was the end of it. He needed to get back, Balin wouldn’t like watching the booth for him much longer. Then he saw the way Kili was staring off into space all forlornly. 

“Or maybe not,” Dwalin muttered as he noticed, no not space, Kili was gazing like a love struck fool at a redhead blending up some purple drink down the aisle. At Thranduil’s booth, the hippie.

 

“My ‘outh feels tinga-lee.” Fili was bopping his lips. He felt restless. There was maybe thirty minutes before they could pack up. Most of the crowd had died out.

Kili was rubbing his temples. Damn the sun for being so bright. “I drank all the water.” 

Fili sighed. 

Kili sighed. “Come on, I’ll buy you a drink. Serves you right for not sharing pie.” Thorin gave them a nod as they left. 

“So.” Kili stood up a smidge straighter. “Let’s…get you some juice.”

Fili told himself the tingling in his mouth had NOT jumped ship to travel down his arms all the way to his fingertips as they walked over to Green Leaf Life. 

It was all that pie from earlier that had his stomach in knots. Damn that pie.

Yeah. 

There was no line. Nothing to stop him from walking right up to Legolas and giving him orders. His order! For juice! Dammit. Be cool Fili.

Legolas smiled, looking unaffected by the bright heat from the noonday sun.

“Hello,” he said. “What can I get you?” 

“Jus’ ah o’gn ‘ouse.” 

“I’m sorry, what?”

“Fili, you alright?”

“I’m fahnn, tohn-gah fus ‘unny.” Fili was frowning and turning red. 

“Dude, stick out your tongue.” Kili grabbed his brother’s chin, prying it open to see. Legolas leaned forward too.

Fili’s tongue was swollen, white, and strangely smooth-looking. Legolas pulled back quickly.

“Did you eat anything unusual today? Unusual for you?”

“Mawl-burrh-ees.”

“Mulberries,” Kili clarified. 

“Food allergy,” Legolas said decisively. He walked around the table to stand beside the two. “He needs to go the doctor. Right now.”

“Oooh, for a shot? In the tongue?” Kili looked oddly gleeful.

“Whaahht!” Fili looked pale.

“No, of course not,” Legolas shook his head. “It's just that you want to make sure it’s just his tongue that is swollen and not the tissues in his airway. The doctor can give him something to bring down the swelling. But Fili needs to go now, not later.”

Kili nodded. “Right, I’ll take him right…wait, do you know each other?”

Tauriel had been watching the scene unfold from where she was packing up. “They had Biology together,” she supplied. “Right, Leggy?”

Legolas nodded. Thank goodness for Tauriel, coming up with plausible reasons. “Yes yes I know him. Car, doctor, NOW.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone reading along, and especially to those of you who have left kudos or comments. I promise things will really start happening in the next chapter. 
> 
> BTW, I got the idea about the mulberries from personal experience. Not fun.


	4. Saturday Afternoon

Thorin had snagged a cinnamon roll the size of his face before Bofur packed up his remaining stock and was happily munching away. Well, carefully and happily, as no one wants thick white stuff in their beard. 

Everything was packed up. He was just waiting for Fili and Kili to get back from their snack run. They had sold a respectable amount, the boys had been professional, and the sun was shining. It had turned out to be a pretty decent morning. Thorin took a big bite.

“Uncle!”

Crap.

Thorin choked a bit as Kili came hurtling towards him. Fili was being dragged by his brother’s hand fisted in the shoulder of his shirt. 

“Fili’s havin’ a reaction to those berries, mouth’s all swollen.”

Double crap. 

“We need to get him to the doctor before he stops breathing!”  
“What?!” Thorin managed to wheeze out, looking frantically between the two as he threw down his pastry and struggled to pull out his keys. 

“Ah-mm oo-kuh.” Fili was trying to reassure everyone it wasn’t that serious. It didn’t work. 

“Let’s go. Kili, grab that box. Fili, can you walk on your own alright? Can you make it to the car?” 

Fili rolled his eyes but nodded. Other than the tingling along his lips and a swollen tongue, he felt alright. Really embarrassed by all the attention, but alright.

Thorin made Kili call Dis after the doctor had shaken his head and prescribed some medication, along with the strict guidance to eat new foods cautiously, not gluttonously.   
Thorin could hear her laughter through the phone after she had confirmed her oldest was going to be just fine. 

 

 

Bilbo was squinting, trying to read and listen to Ori at the same time. 

“…but the taquitos are pretty good if you don’t like tacos, but they’re damn greasy, which is great if that’s what you’re into. Oh, the carne asada is awesome...”

Bilbo tried to remember the last time he had tacos. He was drawing a blank. 

Ori was practically bouncing in his seat pointing out all the good things there were to eat.

“You know what, Ori? How about you order for the both of us.”

Ori tapped his fingers against his lips. “Hm, first time…ok! I know.” After trying to push a few bills into Bilbo’s hand, which he staunchly refused (‘No no, my treat.’), they sat idling after paying, waiting.

The second window thwacked open. “Ok, two carne asada burritos, one with sour cream, one without,” the teller rattled off. He gave them a speculative look as he thrust the bag over. “Hm. Lunch date?”

“Lunch…what, no! I’m not a damn cradle robber!” Bilbo hissed.

Ori leaned forward, “And I don’t appreciate third-party speculations on my sexuality, mister!” He was very indignant at the moment, even as he unwrapped the top half of his burrito. 

The teller shrugged. “Whatever. Enjoy your not-a-lunch-date.”

Bilbo felt a little uncomfortable as he drove out of the parking lot, and not just because he was trying to beat oncoming traffic and avoid scrapping the undercarriage of his car on the deep gutter while holding a hot burrito the size of a Chihuahua. 

After a week of living together, it was time to talk. Ori had talked plenty last Saturday afternoon. Bilbo had been flummoxed as he hadn’t remembered hinting that he was looking for a roommate; it turned out Ori had been though. 

Dori had stopped giving them both the angry eyes, finally, when Bilbo pulled him away from Ori to calm down. It helped that Bilbo gave him a little speech about young people needing to grow into their independence, and that maybe Ori just needed a few days away to feel fine again. Dori had sighed.

“Are you sure, Bilbo? This is asking a favor of you, one I don’t really feel comfortable asking.” 

Bilbo frowned. He had several frowning faces; this one was Did You Really Just Say That?  
“Of course it is fine, Dori. I’d like to think we’re friends, real friends, not just work buddies.” Another thought occurred to him. “You aren’t, well, you aren’t worried about…about Ori staying with, with me, are you?”

“Why? Oh. OH. No. No Bilbo, that’s not, not something that I would even consider.” Dori patted his shoulder. “You are an upstanding fellow. If Ori was going to live with anyone else, I’m comforted that it would be you.”

“Huh. Not even Nori?”

“Especially not Nori!” Dori huffed at the very idea, then gave Ori a long look. “Ok you! You young man are going home and are going to pack a bag. Just for a week…” here he glanced at Bilbo, “or two. And I better not hear of you not helping out properly.” 

 

So they had settled in at Bilbo’s old family home. It had been over a decade since Bilbo had lived with anyone. Several years since anyone had stayed the night. Lately, he didn’t even entertain guests. The house seemed to shrink in size as Bilbo gave Ori the tour, every corner seemed new as he saw it through someone else’s eyes. And yet, it seemed to grow too; for so long it had been simply Bilbo, and the sharp tones of Ori’s voice bounced around the empty spaces in a way that was unfamiliar.

In the mornings they went their separate ways, Bilbo to the tea shop and Ori to his class of the day. Bilbo had questioned if it was a wise decision to turn one’s life upside down in the middle of finals week, but Ori had waved him off. In the afternoons Ori would catch the bus to the tea shop for his shift, and then they would close up and head back together. In the evenings after dinner, they might read or play cards. It was a comfortable companionship that soothed an ache Bilbo had never acknowledged after his parents had died.

“Ori.”

Ori scrounged around for a napkin, paper bag crinkling loudly. “Yes Bilbo?” He wiped his mouth, hearing a note of some emotion in his friend’s tone.

Bilbo sighed. “Look, I know this is going to be an uncomfortable conversation for both of us, but if you’re going to be living with me for longer…well, I think…” 

Ori put down his burrito gingerly to give his full attention. 

“Ori, I’m gay. You probably noticed-“

“Yeah. And I’m hoping that isn’t what this is about.”

Bilbo blew out a breath as he came to a red light. “Well, it is, in a way. You see, I just wanted to make sure that you aren’t wanting to live with me because, um. Well, you’re a young man, and-“

“No, Bilbo, I’m not in love with you.”

Well, when it was put that bluntly. “That’s not,” he paused to try and to speak less shrilly. “It’s like you said back there. I’m not about to make guesses about you, your preferences. But. I have a sort of intuition about these things and I just. Oh hell! I wanted to make sure you weren’t developing feelings or anything that might have prompted this decision. If you want to live away from Dori, on your own, fine. If that happens to be with me because it works, well, all the better. But I needed to make sure we hashed that out.”

Ori twisted his mouth, but nodded.

“Good,” Bilbo tapped his fingers on the steering wheel. “Good.”

Ori picked his burrito back up. “I cannot believe you just cited gay radar.”

“It’s a thing!”

 

Ori gave him the side eye. “No, it’s not.”

“Is too,” Bilbo said under his breath.


	5. Greybeard's

Bilbo finished buttoning his waistcoat, and gave himself the once-over in the ancient standing mirror. He sighed, hands on his hips. “As always, this is as good as it’s going to get.”

His footsteps made a solid thump, thump as he made his way down the hall, courtesy of the hard soles of his Going Out oxfords. He briefly glanced through the open doorway of the room that now belonged to Ori, who was not there. Bilbo continued downstairs.

Ori had loved the staircase. “Oh, it’s like something from a story,” he’d gushed.

Bilbo’s mother had loved flowers, so much that she became a florist. And his father, an architect, had loved her so much that he had built her a house. The large back garden had been a big draw, however; it was the gleaming spiral staircase carved with leaves and stephanotis, which was her favorite. It was Bilbo’s favorite too. 

“Ori, I’m heading out in a few. Sure you’re going to be fine?”

Ori looked up from a book he’d borrowed from Bilbo’s library. That was another thing he’d loved. (“Bilbo, you have a no-shit library in your house. I might never leave.”)

“Uh, yeah. Don’t mind me, I’ll just be doing a bit of reading,” he held up his book in one hand, page marked with a finger, “maybe catch up on sleep, you know?”

Bilbo nodded. It was one thing to take on a roommate after years of living alone. It was quite another to leave someone alone in one’s house after so many years. Doubly so as he hadn’t had to worry about anyone seeing him coming home shit-faced since he was in college. Well, he would just not get too inebriated tonight, and everything would be fine. 

The doorbell rang.

“See you later Ori. Call me if you run into any trouble.” Bilbo opened the door to see Bofur’s wide grin.

“Same to you, Bilbo,” Ori smirked into his book.

The plan was for Bilbo and Bofur to go out and have a few drinks together as they did every couple of weeks at their preferred pub. Bofur said it was to keep Bilbo from becoming an old maid before his time. This sentiment had Bilbo taking the precaution to leave his wooly cardigans at home on such get-togethers. The plan did not include Nori. 

“Hell-lo Bilbo,” Nori drawled. “I hear you’re playing house with my baby brother.”

That deserved no more than an eye roll as Bilbo slid into the back seat of Bofur’s van.   
Nori held his gaze from the passenger’s seat for a few beats before chuckling. “Just giving you a hard time, buddy. It’ll be good for him to be out from under Dori’s wing. Maybe he’ll even live a little.”

 

“No, I won’t.”

Dwalin stretched his legs out and folded his hands in his lap. “Yes, you will. Go spruce up, I’ll be waitin’.”

Thorin glowered at his friend on the worn out couch before turning to head down the hallway to his room. ‘Spruce up’, indeed; for who, Dwalin? Thorin snorted. Then he caught sight of his mountain-man hair in total disarray from a much needed afternoon nap after Fili’s fiasco. Well, he thought as he grabbed a comb, maybe it wouldn’t hurt to at least be presentable.

“So,” Thorin asked as they climbed into Dwalin’s truck. “Where are we going?”

It was twilight; the sky still a dusky blue with pink fluff fading away to stars.

“I was thinking Greybeard’s.”

 

“Greybeard’s!” The three cheered as they clunked their pints together. It was the third round. Or fourth. 

Bofur came up for air first. He had to take it slower; he was driving. 

Nori plunked his glass down quickly. “There’s that bastard! ‘scuse me, gentlemen,” he said, patting Bilbo’s shoulder while looking towards the bar. “Watch my drink.” 

Bilbo tapped the table in front of Bofur. “Watch his drink.” He hiccupped. “I need to-“he made a motion with his hand. 

Bilbo made his way to the bathrooms. That last pint had been the tipping point. 

“Oh, pardon,” he said a bit sloppily as he collided with a broad chest. He looked up.

Oh. Heelllooo Blue Eyes, he thought. 

“Hello,” Blue Eyes said, smiling a bit as he held the Men’s door open for Bilbo to slip through. 

Bilbo felt pleasantly flushed. Until he realized he must have spoken his flirtation out loud. He mentally shrugged; it wasn’t like he’d see the man again; no need to feel embarrassed. 

 

“Thorin!” Dwalin waved at him from a table with Nori and Bofur.

Thorin made his way over. The pub was filled with more people then he was used to seeing here. After a beer and a couple shots at the bar the close press of warm bodies and loud music didn’t bother him. Much. 

Nori was goading Dwalin over something as he sat down. Thorin began to fill Bofur in on the unexpected risks of mulberries when a waiter unceremoniously plopped a tray down. Nori began portioning out the shots. 

“Bilbo! Come have a drink,” he jerked his head at Dwalin as he handed over the shot glass with the tips of his fingers, “this one’s paying.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is pretty short, because I came to a point in the story when I have to decide: how explicit do I want this to be?
> 
> Thoughts? Opinions?


	6. Sunday Morning: Bilbo

Ori startled awake. ‘What is it? Robbers? Axe murderer? Clowns from under the bed?

Oh, cell phone. Okay.

“What Nori?” Ori rubbed his eyes, tired again now that death was not imminent.

“Ori!” Nori was a boisterous drunk. “We’re dropping Bilbo off, need you to make sure he gets to bed. Don’t want him, I don’t know, falling asleep on the front step or somethin’.”

“What? Nori. How bad off is he?”

“We’re a stoplight away little bro,” he evaded. “See ya soon.”

Sighing, Ori pushed himself out of the chair where he’d been dozing, making his way outside in his pajamas and socks.

The stars were brighter out here where Bilbo lived, he thought. He held onto his elbows, wishing they’d hurry up. It was so quiet. 

 

What fresh hell is this?

Bilbo took the shot from Nori and sniffed. Tequila? That’ll do it. 

He made a point to keep his face fixed on Bofur (and not Blue Eyes) as he knocked it back with the rest of them. Do not look do not look do not look-

Dammit. Bilbo had thought the man-bun trend was slightly ridiculous. He was reconsidering. 

Nori burped. “Dwalin, Bilbo. Bilbo, Dwalin,” they nodded to each other. “Thorin, this is Bilbo.”

“Oh. So this is the roommate?” Thorin tilted his head. “I assumed Ori was living with a college student, not a librarian.” He smirked. 

Bilbo happened to like librarians. “Actually, I’m a more of a gardener.” He smiled. It was his Go Fuck Yourself smile. 

“A gardener?” Eyebrow raise. “Tell me, what do you grow?”

Damn that was a deep voice. “If you must know, flowers. And I provide some of the teas Dori uses at the shop.” 

Thorin looked unimpressed. Bilbo tried to look unimpressed as well. Nori ordered another round for the table. 

 

“Enjoy yourself, Bilbo?” Ori had seen the way Bilbo had wobbled when stepping out of Bofur’s van. He didn’t trust him to navigate the staircase without an avoidable accident. So here they were, Bilbo propped up on Ori, an arm around his shoulders. Giggling. 

“Yes.” There was a hiccough. “There was tequila.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Nori was buying. Well, nope, Dwalin was buying and-”

“You met Dwalin?” Ori pushed open Bilbo’s bedroom door. 

“Yes, pay attention Ori. I met Dwalin, and he owed Nori some moneys. OH.” Bilbo frowned. “And I met THORIN.” Ori tried to set him down on the bed gently. He fell. “That man. That man is gorgeous. I mean rude! Very,very rude.” 

Ori came back with a glass of water. Bilbo had fallen asleep. 

 

Bilbo’s first thought the next morning was ‘Am I wearing shoes?’ The answer being yes, of course. Yes, Bilbo. You woke up still fully clothed on your bed, where you passed out after being helped into your own house. Because you, sir, are an adult. 

He sighed as he sat up. This morning called for tea and toast. 

The house was silent as he made tea in the kitchen. When he was younger, it had seemed a lucky thing indeed to wake up at the same early hour every day, no matter if he had stayed up or what he had been doing. It wasn’t such a desirable trait now that he was older. Bilbo pulled down the breakfast tray from its home in the pantry. 

Ori found him an hour later in the garden, gazing with unseeing eyes at the camellias. 

 

 

Bilbo’s father Bungo was not the accepting sort.

He was courteous; kind to small children and animals; faithful. Traditional. 

Bungo was not cruel. He spoke his mind straightforwardly, and did not fling his criticisms like whips, but let them drop like lemon juice on a wound. These were most often delivered in the sitting room over afternoon tea. He liked to rid his mind of any lingering stinging thoughts by prattling on as others might reply with ‘So true’, or ‘Quite’.

It was in this way that Bungo made it clear he was not accepting of love outside of the traditional. All others were derided. If he was aware of the deep insecurity he was inadvertently planting in his son’s mind, perhaps he would have spoken with more care. As these things are prone to go, Bilbo quietly took it upon himself to hide those tender parts of himself. When those parts might be revealed by the company he kept, Bilbo hid his companions as well. 

Somehow, his father came up with the answer by what was not there. Silence when there should have been noise seemed to be a gift. It was somehow more hurtful. It implied too many things would always be unspoken. 

 

“Feeling better, Bilbo?” Ori spoke softly. The gentle breeze and early morning seemed to require it.

Bilbo glanced at Ori, perched as he was on the edge of a brick flower bed. “I’ve been better,” he said with a wry smile. “Thank you, for helping me to my room last night.”

“Couldn’t very well leave you to stumble around on you own, now.” Ori gestured. “You’d do the same.”

Bilbo sat up more in his garden chair. “To be honest I expected it! Not the… other way around,” he left off with a mumble.

Ori stood, dusting off his pajama pants. “Well, I’ll hold you to it. Just a few days now.”

“A few days until?”

Ori paused in his walk to the kitchen. “Why, my birthday. Twenty-first.” 

“Really?” Bilbo turned in his chair to face him. “I suspect you’ll have a party?”

Here Ori fidgeted with his hands. “Maybe. I don’t…expect any, or…anything. Dori might, have something planned.”

Bilbo turned back to his garden as Ori went to rustle up breakfast, contemplating. “Ori,” he called as he sprung up, then stopped, hands on his knees. Tequila, he shuddered. Never again.

Ori was looking between a package of sausages and a package of bacon, refrigerator door still open. 

“Ori,” he began again. “How do you feel about, well, what I mean is, would you like to have a party here? A grand party for your birthday?”

“Here? Really?!”

Bilbo shrugged, pleased by the excited tone. “Yes, if you’d like. There’s plenty of room, and I have something of a gift for throwing parties. You can invite who you like, but no hooligans please.” He laughed, feeling lighter.

The packages of cured meat were forgotten. “Yes! Bilbo, yes. I’d like that.” He thought for a moment. “I’d have to invite my family.”

“Oh, of course Dori and Nori.”

Ori shook his head. “No, well, yes, but. I mean my extended family. They all live near-by. Most hang around the market actually.”

“Is that so? I haven’t met them.”

“If you’re serious about throwing a party, you will, Bilbo. It’s a certainty.”


	7. Four Awkward Conversations

Sunday

Thorin woke up with hair in his mouth. Again. He scrubbed a hand over his face as he sat on the side of the bed. A sharp sound from his kitchen had him wrenching open his bedroom door…

…to see Dwalin cracking eggs into a bowl in his kitchen.

“Good morning?”

Dwalin turned, an egg cradled in his hand. “Morning.” He winked.

“Breakfast?”

“Mm.”

“I didn’t have eggs in my fridge.” The sizzling of raw egg hitting a hot pan took over the silence. “Dwalin. Are you randomly keeping eggs in your truck now, or did you specifically plan this? Because if it's the former you might have a problem.”

That earned him a chuckle but no answer one way or the other.

They ate in silence, as two who are well acquainted with each other and comfortable without words. Dwalin pushed his plate away first. He raised his mug of coffee, going for nonchalance and failing, “Glad you went out last night?”

Thorin started pushing his eggs around with his fork. He made a rumbling sound; noncommittal. Picked up his toast. “Haven’t been drinking with Nori in a while.”

“Sure,” Dwalin cleared his throat. “You’ve never been drinking with Bilbo.”

The bite of toast turned heavy on his tongue. He shrugged.

This was going to be tougher then Dwalin thought. 

 

 

Monday

“So other than my son poisoning himself, on your watch, I might add, how was your weekend?”

Dis closed her restaurant on Mondays and held Thorin hostage for a few hours to interrogate him on his lack of a social life. Or so he privately thought. She called it dinner.

“Fili is an adult. And the doctor said he’ll be fine.” Thorin hesitated, as though bracing himself. “Afterwards I went out with Dwalin. We ended up meeting up with Bofur and Nori at Greybeards.”

“And Ori’s new roommate.”

“Yes, and wi-…wait. HOW do you know that?”

Dis calmly poured herself more wine. “Nori told me. He was working last night.” She took a sip and looked at her brother sternly. “He says you insulted the poor man.”

Thorin glared. “I did not.”

Dis scrunched up her face. “Hm. Pretty sure you did. Not that you’d have thought that. You probably thought you were flirting.” She studied him. “Dear god, were you flirting?”

She started laughing at her brother’s grumpy face. 

 

 

Three weeks ago, Kili had burst into their shared bedroom and simply stared at his brother, waiting until he had his attention.

It wasn’t difficult; Kili had the subtlety of a hurricane. “Yeah?”

“Dude,” Kili’s eyes were bright. “The Lego store is hiring for the summer.”

Kili flattened himself against the doorjamb as Fili tore out of the room, pausing at the front door to call, “Come ON, Kili.”

Fili had gotten the job. Kili had applied too, on a whim, and surprisingly was hired as well, though they did not have many shifts together. On this morning it was just Fili and a more seasoned employee in the store. Which meant it was Fili who was sent to tidy up the barrels of spare pieces outside. Every surface was bright; glinting, sometimes painfully so, from the early morning sun. The air felt heavy.

A streak of a little boy ran up to the play area, the mother trailing reluctantly behind.

“Hey good morning, little fella.” He smiled down at the little brown curly head. The little boy looked up at him, blue eyes huge.

“Fili?” a voice asked hesitantly.

He looked up at the mother, bewildered. She tilted her chin in the universal motion of “hey, behind you.” Fili turned. And stared dumbly for a few moments until things became awkward. 

Legolas Green. Staring back at him looking concerned. “I was just walking,” here he half turned, hands fidgeting, “and saw you, here, and I uh, wanted to check on how your mouth was doing. I mean! Ha ha, not like-” his eyes cut down to focus on Fili’s shoes as he cleared his throat. Tried again. “An allergic reaction can be serious, and I wanted, thought I’d check. Since I saw you. As, as I was walking by.”

Here the mother wisely took her son’s hand and wandered away. But not before catching Legolas’ eye and giving an encouraging smile.

Fili felt as though his tongue was still swollen. He nodded, eyes unable to rise higher than Legolas’ stomach. “I’m good.”

“That’s good, then.” 

Fili nodded again, looked up as Legolas said, “Okay, well…” Finally, they could make eye contact at the prospect of saying good-bye. 

Legolas felt as though his skin was ice but his core burned.

Fili felt as though a balloon had inflated in his chest, bubbles rising through his throat out his mouth threatening to break into a wide smile. He managed to smirk instead. 

“Hey, man. Would you. Um, let me treat you to a movie. My treat. For the, the early diagnosis, so to speak.”

Legolas let out a huff of a nervous laugh. “Yeah, okay,” he shrugged, finding Fili’s shoes interesting again. He looked up, deciding to be bold. “Saturday?”

 

Tuesday

Bilbo wiped down the counter where tea and sticky blobs of honey liked to lie in wait for receipts or bills to fall and make a mess. He hid the cloth behind the counter as a customer came in to the tea shop. He was pulling out a smile before he recognized the older man, frowning in slight confusion.

“Gandalf?” Bilbo seemed to pull himself from some train of thought. He lifted up the counter to walk out to meet him. “Gandalf! Pleasant seeing you here.” Rocking on his heels, he thought he had sounded cheerful enough. 

Gandalf smiled his usual smile of benevolence and craftiness. “Bilbo, my friend. How are you today?”

Bilbo knew Gandalf was asking how he was on This Day, the one he tried to not think about until it was on top of him and thinking was all he could do with himself. Each year, Bilbo would quietly remind himself upon waking that there was another year between the phone call and his waking in bed. He thought the pain would lessen; it seemed to lie dormant until it could get its hooks in him again. 

“Fine. Good. And you?” His face flinched into a facsimile of a smile. 

“Bilbo,” Gandalf rumbled disapprovingly. “Come have a cup of tea with me.” He nodded at Bilbo once more, as though deciding something.

Bilbo nodded in agreement. Walked back behind the counter to make a pot of Earl Grey, and to let Ori know he was taking a break.

Gandalf sat with his hands linked on the table. “Is that Earl Grey? Oh. My favorite.”

“You didn’t come here for the tea Gandalf,” Bilbo stated flatly.

Gandalf harrumphed. Unfolded his hands as he raised his teacup halfway to his mouth. “Well, it wasn’t a deterrent.” He sipped. Smiled.

It was twelve years to the day that Bilbo received a phone call informing him his parents were dead. A car accident on an afternoon drive. Unexpected. 

“Really, I’m fine.”

Gandalf regarded him carefully across the table. “Bilbo, my dear fellow, ‘fine’ does not mean ‘the same as always’. Although we like to suppose it does.”

They said it was the sun. The late afternoon sun, already low in the sky. Blinding rays of yellow and orange sound beautiful. Bungo saw the light, and not the speeding car, and turned right into it. 

Bilbo tapped his fingers on the table while his tea went cold. “Yes. Well. I am different. Different things are happening, have happened.” He began to nod with each new proof of change. “I started helping at the Market; I have Ori as a roommate. That’s good. I’m even throwing him a party. At the house actually. So you see, things are not exactly as they have always been.”

“A party?”

“Yes. Birthday party.” Bilbo adjusted in his chair. “You’re invited. Of course. It’s to be this Saturday, 2pm.”

Gandalf settled back in his chair. “A party. For Ori. Well, this is fine news. I wonder if you have thought about accommodating his family. All of them?” At Bilbo’s nod, he continued. “And have you sent out invitations?” 

“Not quite,” Bilbo sighed.

“By all means, allow me to inform the others.” Gandalf rose to leave, grabbing his cane. “Oh, Bilbo, you should expect,” he counted on his fingers, “twelve. Yes, they wouldn’t miss it.”

Bilbo said his goodbye. Walked back to the counter to watch Gandalf until he was out of sight.

“You invited Gandalf, right?” Ori was watching the timer for a customer’s to-go cup.

“Yes, of course. We can’t forget Gandalf.” Bilbo took a deep breath, slowly breathed out, and walked back behind the counter.


	8. Lead Up to the Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tension builds in the days leading up to the party.

Wednesday

“What are we getting for Ori?” Kili was standing in front of the refrigerator, eating peanut butter from the jar with a stalk of celery.

Fili pondered at the ceiling. “Schnapps?” He sat on the living room floor surrounded by papers: notes, old tests, lab reports. Most were chucked into the recycling bin. 

“Schnapps are good. Oh! Mom said Gandalf told her it was a potluck. That includes drinks, right?” He capped the peanut butter jar; put it away. Kili frowned at the pile of dirty dishes Dis had tasked him with. 

Since the time he got off work the day previous, Fili had been a whirl of energy instead of his usual placid self. Straightening his side of the room; cleaning the bathrooms; now going so far as to empty out his book bag. Something was off. Or, Kili thought as he snapped on rubber gloves and got scrubbing, something is new. The last time Fili had gone on a cleaning frenzy was just before he asked out Viola Thompkins senior year. There was only one person he could think of that would have his brother this jumpy.

Out of kindness to Fili’s reticence on the subject, Kili thought the best course of action was to act as though nothing was going on, nothing at all. He had noticed certain things before, of course. They could not be as close as they were and have him not see. Sometimes, he would swear his brother was checking out another guy. No, he would think then; I must be mistaken; there must be another reason. Because Fili had only dated girls in his short life, walking around with a sure swaggering bravado. 

Kili slotted the last plate away to dry, stripped off the rubber gloves. “Ok, dishes are done.” He walked over to drop in a heap on the couch. “What now?”

Fili looked over his shoulder. “Don’t you have work?”  
“Nope,” Kili sighed as he threw an arm over his eyes. 

“Hm. Me neither. It’s weird,” he said, “we almost never work at the same time. What’s with that?”

“Like they don’t trust us, right?”

“We’re responsible!”

“Yeah we are! Mom trusts us. Uncle Thorin trusts us.” Kili had decided his next activity would be defending his responsibility. Not an easy thing when your shirt is of a bear riding a skateboard.

“Well, Mom mostly trusts us. There is that Friday Night Clause.” 

Dis had an agreement with her sons. They had no curfew on Fridays and could do as they pleased, with the proviso that they help their uncle at the Saturday Farmer’s Market. It took them three weeks to figure out Dis was ensuring they never did anything too crazy on Friday nights.

 

Thursday

“Legolas, hand me the spoon. No no, the spatula.” They were making popsicles. It was a terribly hot afternoon. And Pinterest made everything look so pretty.

“The strawberries are sinking to the bottom,” Legolas observed.

“Yeah, well, gravity and all. Dammit, there’s gotta be a trick to this.” Tauriel frowned at the strawberries thwarting her efforts. She slide more fruity liquid into the holder, watching the berries fall away from the sides and settle at the bottom. “Okay these are now fruit-on-the bottom popsicles.”

“Mm-hm.” Legolas was licking the spatula. “How long until they are ready?”

“An hour or so?” They wandered upstairs. She flopped onto his bed as he took a seat at the desk. “What now?”

Legolas tilted his head. “Movie?”

Tauriel rose up on an elbow. “Okay.” She swung her feet off the bed, settled his pillows against the wall. “What do you want to watch?”

Legolas was very quickly popping a DVD into his laptop, not making eye contact.

No.

“Pirates? Again Leggy?”

“It is a fantastic trilogy, Tauriel.”

“One, they made four-”

“Yes and we do not acknowledge that one,” Legolas said.

“Oh, you’re right. Sorry. Your imaginary boyfriend isn’t in that one.” (Here he gave her a look that said ‘Exactly’.) “Two, if we start now, the rest of the afternoon and half the night is eaten up by swashbuckling and Orlando Bloom.”

“…so?” 

They stared at each other for a beat. “Okay then.” Tauriel settled back as Legolas joined her. She waited. Through the mist, the plumed hats and gesticulating, the clang of swords, she waited. As the credits rolled, she reminded him the popsicles were probably set. She waited until they each had a frozen treat in hand at the kitchen counter before pouncing.   
“So where are you going on your date?”

 

Friday

Bofur, Dwalin, and Nori were at Greybeards.

“They’ll never make a move.” Bofur shook his head. “They need…a push.”

“A ‘push’?” Dwalin took a pull from his beer. “By who? Or what kind of a push?”

“It has to be subtle,” Nori said. “Thorin can shut himself up like a brick wall.”

The others nodded knowingly.

“And, Bofur you’ve seen this, Bilbo needs to be practically dragged into doing anything new.”

Dwalin frowned. “Is this even a good idea?”

“Probably not.”

“Can’t say that it is.”

His shoulders dropped. They sat silent for a few minutes, staring at the scarred wooden table. 

“Bollocks!” Dwalin suddenly exclaimed, slapping the table. “Are we not their friends?” The other two nodded. “Is their well-being, their happiness, not our business?”

“They’d probably say not, but-”

Dwalin cut Nori off. “Never mind that. Point is, they’re so far into their own…muck, they can’t see properly. But we see. Their quietness. The loneliness.” 

There was a significant moment of eye contact around their little drunken table. 

“Well then!” Bofur clapped his hands. “So it’s settled. Gentlemen, what are your bets?”

Dwalin was cynical. He believed Thorin would continue to be awkward and come off as an aloof. Bilbo seemed to him to be polite to a fault. Balin had known Thorin his whole life, and also thought Thorin would never be the first to make a move.

Nori had talked things over with Dis. Their opinion was that Thorin would make an ass of himself. Nori knew Bilbo better than Dwalin and Balin, and thought for sure Thorin would get a “fuck off’ if he insulted flowers again.

Bofur and Bombur knew Bilbo fairly well. They were accused of wearing rose-colored glasses, because they thought the two would actually flirt. As in, the other person would recognize innuendos. No progress would be made of course, but “For sure there’ll be unresolved tension,” Bofur said while he wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. 

Bifur, romantic that he was, decided the two would argue until they ended up screaming at each other before making out. “Horizontally, he said that position specifically,” Bofur informed Dwalin and Nori. 

“Yeah, like Bilbo’s just going to tackle Thorin to the floor and start going at,” Nori was huffing with laughter. “In front of company! Ah Bofur, his face would go red just thinking about it!”

“You know Gloin will want to get in on this,” Dwalin said later as they sobered up outside.

“Well,” Nori sniffed. “He can survey the situation tomorrow and place his wager then, same as any other who wants in on it.”


	9. The Party: Part 1

You know that feeling of your hair slowly falling down when the rubber band snaps? That split second of, ‘oh no,’ when you feel exposed and unintentionally sexy and almost like you want to hide your face? Thorin felt all that before 9am on Saturday. A tiny septuagenarian was inquiring how best to cook the baseball bat-sized squash in her hands when his hair decided to spring free of its rubber confinement.

“Oh, dear,” she tittered as the locks tumbled down. He had to shake the hair out of his face. The lady was appropriately mesmerized and bought the squash, no other recommendations needed. A quick check of his pockets; the cup holder of his truck, and questioning Fili revealed there were no spare rubber bands or hair ties of any sort to be had. ‘I don’t need this today,’ he thought.

Thorin had not slept well last night. He didn’t have air conditioning; just a crappy fan from the big box store. The sheets scratched. The room was humid. His skin was hot. His mind would just not shut up.

Remember to buy ice in the morning to keep the leafy greens cool.

Fili and Kili are leaving early tomorrow.

Dis said the food would be ready for pick-up at 1:30pm.

You’ll be inside the librarian’s house tomorrow.

Remember not to call him ‘the librarian’. 

Thorin needed his mind to be quieted, and decided to give it a hand. If he thought of a certain smartly dressed gentleman chastising him thoroughly over a late library book, no one needed to know. He was able to get some sleep after his heart rate slowed back down. 

 

 

Bilbo was slicing the last of the lemons and limes into wedges when the doorbell rang. He paused, frowning.

“Who arrives early to a party is what I want to know,” he grumbled.

“Dwalin,” the enormous man at the door said with a nod of his head. “We met last week, remember lad?” He maneuvered his way inside by walking forward with a huge platter until Bilbo had to choose to step away from the door, or get a face-full of deviled egg. “Which way? Down here?”

Bilbo stuttered a “What…” when he noticed someone carrying a large paper bag coming up to the door.

“Hello there!” said a man with snow white hair. He put a hand to his chest and did a little bow. “I’m Balin. We’re here to help you get things sorted before the others arrive.”

“Well that’s very kind, but-”

Balin was walking away from Bilbo and towards the ruckus being made in the kitchen. Bilbo began to follow, concern wrinkling his face. He made it three steps before his doorbell rang again.

“Hello!” Bilbo grimaced at the volume. “I’m Fili-”

“And I’m Kili-”

“And we’re here for the party.” 

“You’re a bit early, boys, don’t you think?” Bilbo normally would have hidden his frustration, but having four houseguests arrive ahead of schedule was a little much for him. 

And in a move that must have been coordinated beforehand, Bilbo thought, the two simultaneously gave an exaggerated bow.

“But Mr. Boggins-”

“Baggins.”

“-we are at your service!” The brunette said. 

“Mother’s orders,” said the blonde. “As she could not be here, and Uncle Thorin will be arriving late.”

The two smiled at him expectantly. They had strict orders from Dis to observe everything and report back to her. 

Bilbo decided they could help set up the bar. Then he remembered his manners and offered them a drink. He was going to need one. Especially after walking in on Dwalin attempting to heft the kitchen table out to the garden. 

“Ah, Kili. Fili. Give us a hand.”

The two hopped to it as Bilbo sputtered. “What- why does my table need to be moved?”

“Need more room for mixin’,” Dwalin said over his shoulder as the table was lifted through the back door. 

“Drinks,” Balin supplied. “Everyone likes something different. I’ll go grab the ice.” And with that he took off towards the front of the house. Bilbo stood in the middle of his yellow kitchen, torn between hovering over the three in his garden, or being an upstanding host and going to help Balin. Manners won.

The door was left cracked open to the sound of more guests arriving. Bilbo pulled his door open as Nori went to push. 

“Hello Nori,” Bilbo said to the redhead sprawled on his mat. The small crowd at the door roared with laughter.

“’lo Bilbo,” Nori said from the floor. “Very nice mat, this is.”

Bofur stepped over him. “Falling down so soon?” Nori responded by grabbing onto Bofur’s shirttails to help heist himself up. Bifur and Bombur followed them, both laden down with platters of food. 

Ori came downstairs from his shower, adjusting his suspenders. “What’d I miss?”

“Oh, nothing much. Just your family taking over my house.”

Balin walked back in with Dori, who was balancing three bags of ice on each shoulder. “Do you think we need more, Balin? Oh, hello Bilbo! Ori, go grab the bag of liquors from my car.”

Ori gave Bilbo a comforting pat on the back as he passed. Bilbo was alone in the hall.

‘Well Bilbo, let’s get on with it,’ he thought. 

The kitchen was a mass of moving bodies. Every inch of counter space was covered. Peeking out the back door revealed Dwalin had opened the gate to move in a couple of folding tables.

“Behind you!” called an unfamiliar voice. Bilbo turned around to see a large redheaded man holding a chair from the dining room.

“Oh! This chair is not meant for the outdoors, please take it back.”

“Well where will we sit then?”

This stumped Bilbo, giving the man an opening to continue outside, followed by a grey-haired man who looked to be wearing a hearing aid, and the brothers whose names Bilbo was still uncertain of. Things were quickly slipping beyond his control. Luckily, Bofur chose this moment to offer him an ale. 

“You know Bilbo, it occurs to me you don’t entertain much,” he said, jostling him with a hand clap to the shoulder. “Relax. We didn’t want you to stress none.”

Bilbo took a long drink. “No, no. It’s fine, really. I just had planned for something different, that’s all.” Ori came back inside, the bag in his arms clinking with bottles. “So is everyone here?”

 

Thorin was going to be late. Dis had insisted on making the piroshky for the party. Not that she would be delivering them, oh no. Thorin needed to pick up the catering platter. Not that he hadn’t made two of his own salads to bring, oh no. He would probably be the last to arrive. Would Bilbo think it was on purpose, that he was being rude? He wondered. Then he wondered where he was, as he was fairly sure Bilbo’s house was not in a business district. Maybe it was a right turn at the second Stop sign? It was ten minutes and another wrong turn later when he finally recognized Dwalin’s truck and his nephew’s beat-up car parked near a house with a green door, as Gandalf had said.

Loud voices and laughter echoed from behind the house. Should he go to the back? No, no, the front was more polite. He walked up to the door, food delicately stacked. Which presented the conundrum of having both hands full and needing to ring the bell. ‘Screw it’ he thought. ‘I’m late, I’m pissed, and he already dislikes me.’ Thorin gave the door three swift kicks. He strained to hear footsteps coming closer.


	10. The Party: Part 2

“Last chance, Gloin.” Nori had heard Thorin park his truck. “Do you want in or not?”

Gloin deliberated as he squeezed lime into his Moscow Mule. “This Baggins seems a wee bit…fussy.” He sipped, nodding. “I think all of you are in for a disappointment. By which I mean you’ll be losing your money. To me.” He held up a finger. “Not a thing is going to come of this, that’s my wager.”

Nori rolled his eyes but made a note of it. He scanned the area, as he wanted to get a good spot before they were all taken. Bofur had already planted himself in the doorway to the kitchen; the bastard would have eyes on two places at once. Bifur was settled in at the table with Balin and Oin, who had declined to make any predictions because ‘isn’t that in poor taste?’ Fili and Kili were at the make-shift bar showing Ori what to mix with some of the schnapps they’d gifted him. Dwalin was…oh, damn it that was the best one. Dwalin had cornered Bilbo at one of the flower beds, probably gushing about his chickens again. His ‘girls’, he called them. Bombur was likely in the kitchen, sampling and organizing. And Dori was strolling his way. Perfect.

“Dori.”

“Nori.”

“Well? Get on with it.”

“I was just coming to see if you wanted to make a toast as well.” Dori downed the rest of his wine glass.

Nori snorted. “Ori’s going to hate that.”

“He’ll feel cheated if we don’t make some announcement.”

“Well. Just, no references to how much he’s grown, or anything, alright? You remember what he was like a few weeks ago.” 

They shuddered in remembrance of The Dinner. Dori’s reminiscing that night about Ori’s younger years had started it off. Ori had become embarrassed because Bilbo was there, and then he got snippy which led to an argument about maturity. Namely, that he was twenty-soon-to-be-twenty-one and had actually lived a little, thank you. Dori mentioned that Ori seeming to have a new fling each month was ‘a sign of immaturity actually’, which led to Ori letting it slip that he might be considering someone older. Much older, come to think of it. Then the shouting began (“They’d just want your body Ori!”). Then the screaming (“I’m not an idiot Dori!”) and finally a door slamming. 

 

They watched Ori from across the garden, laughing at something Kili said, a drink in his hand. Dori sighed. 

“Between you and me, it did go by fast,” Nori said quietly. 

 

Thorin, to be perfectly honest, had expected Bilbo to open the door, not Gandalf. Disappointment warred with relief. 

“Gandalf.”

“Thorin!” Gandalf shut the door behind him as he hesitated in the front hall, unsure of where to go and not wanting to run into someone alone. “You’re late, you know.”

Thorin scowled at Gandalf’s back as he led the way through a hallway on the left. “I may have lost my way once or twice. Your directions weren’t the most helpful.”

Gandalf made a grumbling noise in his throat at that. He stopped as they entered the kitchen, gesturing for Thorin to continue on outside. “Go on. The tables are all set up.”

Thorin got in one last glare before stepping outside. Dwalin spotted him immediately. 

“Finally! We’re half-starved waiting for you to show up.” He threw an arm around the librarian’s shoulders, leading him to a chair. “Come sit next to me Bilbo, I can tell you more about Butterscotch and Honeycup.” 

Why Dwalin liked to name his hens candy-sweet names, Thorin had never figured out. 

 

“I’ll sit next to you, Mr. Bog-Baggins,” Kili said with a smile, boxing him in.

“Uncle! Right here,” Fili pointed to the chair next to himself. Which happened to be directly across from Bilbo. 

Ori sat at one end near Dwalin and Bilbo, Dori at the other near Gandalf and Gloin. The rest of the company sorted themselves out. There was a brief pause when they all looked at the spread of food, and then each other. Then Bombur exclaimed, “Well? Dig in!” and everyone did at once. 

 

There was piroshky, (the meat-filled dumplings Dis had sent); deviled eggs (Dwalin); mushrooms in a sour cream sauce that Bilbo was devouring (Balin); fried ravioli (Bofur and Bifur); a radish-cucumber salad and a shaved beet salad (Thorin); hot buttery rolls, and salted sliced tomatoes (Bilbo). The others had brought such a variety of spirits, wine, and beer that each guest was feeling very warm and fuzzy indeed before dinner was even a quarter finished. Dishes were passed from one end of the table to the other as voices rose and fell, punctuated by raucous laughter and slaps to the table. Bilbo saw Oin casually turn the volume of his hearing aid down. 

 

“How’re things lookin’?” Bofur whispered to Nori.

“If something doesn’t happen soon, Gloin wins.” 

“No! He’s always a smug ass when he wins.” Bofur frowned down the table, accidentally catching Gloin’s eye. Gloin smiled and raised his glass. “Nope. I’m taking matters in hand.”

Bofur raised his voice. “Thorin, you were late and yet you still couldn’t find the time to get cleaned up?” He tsked. 

Thorin swallowed his mouthful of beets. “SOME of us were short on help today. AND had to go pick up more food for you animals. Sorry, if I couldn’t find the time to change my shirt.” And more quietly, “Or to comb my hair.”

It was a Jurassic Park t-shirt that had shrunk in the wash. Bilbo was furtively stealing glances at the way it stretched tightly over his chest. And at the way he would toss his head to move the hair out of his face. Not that anyone noticed where Bilbo’s glances landed, right? (Everyone noticed). 

Bofur went to toss Bombur a roll, missed, and hit Gloin square in the face. 

“You-” Gloin finished his insult by throwing half a tomato that knocked off Bofur’s cap, which in its tumble tipped over Kili’s whiskey sour. Kili stopped mid-story.

“OH, so it’s a food fight you want?!”

As food began to be thrown at faces instead of into mouths, Bilbo’s eyes grew round as saucers. “Well I never,” he huffed. Then a half-eaten piroshky caused Thorin’s wine glass to splatter his white dinosaur shirt. Bilbo abruptly forgot he was angry. 

Thorin did not. “This is my favorite shirt!” The others slowly lowered the bits of food they had been ready to chuck. 

“I can get that out for you.”

Thorin turned towards Bilbo. “Can you?”

Bilbo felt his face grow hot. “Um. Yes. Yes, just ah, come with me?” He sprang up from his seat and walked back towards the kitchen, not looking back to see if he was being followed, and after a moment, Thorin did. The table fell silent as the two disappeared into the kitchen. 

Bifur rapped his knuckles on the table to get everyone’s attention before he signed a question.

“He’s right,” Gandalf said. “We need to hear what’s going on, or all speculations are void.”

Fili looked puzzled. “Gandalf, you’re in on this?”

“Of course I am, Fili! What kind of a question is that?”

Fili looked at his brother, who shrugged.

Balin cleared his throat. “How do we do this, then?”

 

Bilbo had led Thorin to the small laundry room off the kitchen. 

“Salt. And hot water.” He nodded. “Should do the trick. Take it off.”

Thorin started stripping the wet shirt off, giving Bilbo a glimpse of taunt belly, when his conscience kicked in. “Oh! You don’t happen to have an extra…” 

Thorin gave him a look, and pulled the shirt all the way off.

Oh. Oh MY. 

Bilbo resisted the (very) strong urge to touch. Thorin shifted, holding the ball of stained shirt.

“Need any help back here?” Ori popped his head around the doorway.

“No! I mean, yes Ori could you be a dear and start a kettle? Thank you.”

Bilbo kept a box of salt in the laundry room on the top shelf. Normally he used a step ladder to reach it easily, but as he didn’t want to go hunt for it he rose up on tip toe, stretching. Thorin leaned over him to pluck it from the shelf. Bilbo could feel the warm chest near his back.

“Your helpfulness is distracting.”

“Really?” Thorin sounded amused.

Now Bilbo did touch. By giving a little shove. “Ok, hand it over.” He spread the shirt flat and took the salt Thorin handed over with a smirk, sprinkling it over the stain. “Right. Now we wait for that to get soaked up. Then the hot water will take it right out. Oh, that might take a while. Are you sure you don’t want something to cover up with?”

 

 

Ori snuck his way back to the garden. The others leaned in as he took a deep breath.   
“There’s some mild flirting going on.”

Everyone was quiet for a moment, then:  
“HA! In your face Gloin!” Bofur and Bombur high fived.


	11. My Hopes Are So High

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I left off at the party when all of the focus was on Bilbo and Thorin, but I really just wanted to write a bit about Fili and Legolas being adorable on a date.  
> So, if that's your thing, enjoy!

“You going to be okay?” Fili asked, jingling his keys.

“Yeah. Yeah I’ll be fine, Ori said I could hang out for a few hours even if everyone else heads out.” Kili wanted to be as reassuring as possible. He worried Fili might back out and miss his chance if any more obstacles popped up. 

“Well, okay then. See you later.” Fili slipped out of the house unnoticed. Call it fate, karma, or a god with a cruel sense of humor, but it was bizarre coincidence that Legolas lived across the street from Bilbo Baggins. 

 

Fili walked up to the pristine two-story house. A little glow cloud of anticipation had followed him around all week; now it had come to settle somewhere in his lower belly. As he stepped onto the front porch, he resolutely did not think about how he never did this; he always waited in his car for them to come out to him. He pressed the doorbell.

 

Legolas was pretending to listen to Tauriel, but was really a loaded spring waiting for its cue. He had the bedroom door open before the ring of the bell had died away. 

“Aren’t you supposed to make him wait?” She asked devilishly. Then she realized that if the two of them were upstairs, Thranduil would be the one answering the door. ‘Hot damn I have to see this,’ she thought, slipping down the hallway silently to listen at the top of the stairs.

“Yes?” Thranduil asked in a tone that said, ‘Who dares to disturb me?’

“I’m here to pick up Legolas.” Fili jammed his hands in his pockets, staring down his gatekeeper. 

Legolas had made it downstairs just as his father opened the door. He paused, curious how Fili would stand up under scrutiny. Thranduil stepped back when he saw him hovering near.

“You’re going out?” He looked confused. He hadn’t been aware his son had plans.

“I am.”

Legolas nodded at Fili, who glanced back at Thranduil standing in his doorway. He turned and led them to his car still parked across the street. Thranduil closed the door quietly.

“I know you’re there. Did you know about this?”

Tauriel came down the stairs. “This? You mean his date?” She continued to the kitchen to make tea.

“So it is a date?” Thranduil was expressionless most of the time to those who were not used to his moods. Thankfully, Tauriel had spent most of her life at his house, even moving in when her mother moved away after her father died. She recognized the subtle tension around his mouth and the way he seemed to not be looking at anything.

She set out two tea cups. “I think it is. He didn’t really talk about it with me either. I don’t think he’s trying to keep anything from you, honestly.” 

Thranduil seemed to relax. He picked up his tea delicately. “You wouldn’t happen to know this boy’s name?”

“His name is Fili. I believe they had a class or two together.”

Thranduil nodded. “Come Tauriel.” He called over his shoulder as he left the kitchen. “I’m going to need your help navigating social media.”

Oh shit, she thought. Sorry Leggy. 

 

 

“You’re doing it wrong AGAIN!” Fili was gesturing sloppily, laughing.

“Oh, shut up.” Legolas didn’t laugh. He just smiled. 

They were in the arcade of the cinema, passing time. Legolas had half-jokingly challenged Fili to Mortal Kombat. Fili won. 

Then Fili had picked up the plastic rifle of the neighboring game. “How about we see who can get a higher score on this?” 

Legolas had frowned as he eyed the massive weapon. “I’ve never played anything like that.”

Which led to Fili giving him an odd look and thrusting the piece into his hands, telling him what to do as he dropped in a few quarters. Legolas didn’t take to it too well.

“Okay.” Fili moved closer. “You aren’t pumping it,” he gestured with one hand, not quite touching, “and you need to be quicker.” He put in his last quarters, hit the flashing button. “Try again.”

Legolas didn’t want to try again. He was one of those people who won’t perform in front of others unless they have it perfect. But he liked Fili. He wanted to seem easy-going. So he raised the plastic gun again. This time, Fili placed one hand on his shoulder, squeezing when a zombie popped up on the screen. He still disliked the game, but less. 

The screen flashed red, and Legolas re-racked the rifle. Fili had stepped away. “Let’s go find some seats.”

The theater was full, it being a Saturday night. There were a few in the very center, the very front, and the top row. Fili headed to the top without looking at Legolas. 

Legolas was suddenly very aware of the way his clothes rubbed against his body. It was no wonder the seats were empty; they were in a corner with a poor view of the screen. Fili scooted into the seat next to the wall. They sat making idle comments through the previews, their nervous chatter dying out as the lights dimmed further. As the movie started, Fili became hyper-aware of the arm resting so near his own. There was no soft drink to place in the fold-down cupholders, so there was no divider between their bodies. Neither had bought popcorn, so their hands lay on their seats. 

After a particularily impressive stunt midway through the movie, the one turned to the other in the motion of movie-goers the world over, ‘did you see that?!’, though these two held the other’s gaze just a beat too long. Legolas crossed his arms, settled lower in his seat. Fili stared at the screen, then slowly turned his hand to face palm-up. Legolas uncrossed his arms, one hand resting near Fili’s. He waited. Fili brushed the side of his hand with one courgeous finger. Legolas moved so that they were, finally, holding hands. 

When the credits rolled, Legolas stood up first, dropping Fili’s hand in the dark. 

 

 

“Can I?” Legolas whispered.

Fili answered with a shaky inhale, the barest nod.

Legolas leaned forward until his lips were nearly touching Fili’s. He waited. Their eyes locked on to each other. 

Fili closed the distance. His mouth moved with a soft pressure. Someone gasped. One of them was shaking with little tremors. 

They pulled apart. Smiled. Legolas moved to open his door, then quickly leaned forward again to embrace Fili in a tight hug, his smooth cheek pressed tightly between shoulder and neck. He withdrew, eyes flickering to Fili’s mouth.

“Good night,” he whispered. And with a final departing smile, he slipped out of the car. Fili watched him walk into his house without glancing back. He sat with his hands on the steering wheel for he didn’t know how long. The he pulled out his phone to text Kili to come out so he could drive them home.


	12. A Story; a Tour; a Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I believe we left off with Thorin and Bilbo, in the laundry room, with the kettle.

“What am I looking at here?” Gloin frowned at the scene he glimpsed in the kitchen. 

Bofur crossed his arms. “I think that’s sexual tension. Not that you’d recognize it, of course.”

Gloin made a rude gesture as Bifur signed a quick message.

“No the next step is not making out! This isn’t a middle school dance, Bifur,” Bombur said, spearing a tomato on the plate he’d brought from the table. 

“Enough of this,” Gloin said to himself as he strode into the kitchen. “Okay! Cover up, Thorin, this isn’t THAT sort of party.” 

Bilbo set the now-empty kettle down. “I’ll grab you a shirt,” he said to a flushed Thorin.

What Thorin meant to say was ‘Thank you, you kind man for your hospitality’, or something equally ingratiating. What came out was: “Will it even fit?”

Bilbo sputtered something that sounded like “you…mumble-grumble…s’hat.”

 

“You know, now that we’re here I’m not sure how to begin.”

“How about, ‘Once upon a time?’” Balin suggested.  
“Ah, yes, I suppose.” Dori cleared his throat. “Once upon a time…”

…three brothers lived in a house. Where was their mother? That doesn’t matter now. Water under the bridge, as they say. These boys looked after each other, biggest to smallest, as they learned early on that no one else would. And they did alright.  
The oldest loved touching fine things. Pretty fabrics, old wood, painted china- all had a place in his exacting heart.  
The middle boy coveted fine things. Carved silver, sharp steel, rare delicacies- all nearly drew him off track.  
But what they loved best of all, was the fragile bundle of softness their mother placed into their care before departing. This tiny dictator eclipsed all other rarities. For nothing on this Good Earth could repeat the first tottering step; the laughing shock of seeing the best silver strewn around little bare feet on the kitchen floor; the tearful hugs and declarations of unconditional love after a screaming fight. Nothing was as colorful, as changing, as real as the fine young man they had helped to grow into himself. 

 

Everyone raised his glass.  
“Ori,” Dori said solemnly. “Many times over the years have I stressed the importance of propriety, and of staying true to your values. Lately, I have come to recognize that you are grown up now, and while I can have an opinion on your decisions, I cannot make them for you. It is your life, and I am thankful to have had such an important part to play within it. Happy Birthday, Ori. May you have many adventures that always lead you back home.”

"Happy Birthday, Ori!" Chimed the crowd in the parlor. The room filled with the clinking of ice and hearty swallows.

"Ok, where’s the cake?” Bombur asked.

 

Over slices of sugar-dusted apple cake, conversation turned to the house in which they found themselves. There were calls for a tour.

“Alright, alright,” Bilbo acquiesced. 

They oohed and awed over the details on the staircase.  
(“What do the flowers mean?” Kili asked, puzzled.)  
(“Marital bliss,” Bilbo called over his shoulder.)

Bifur whistled at the keystone arches in the corridor. 

Gloin and Nori admired the ornate doorknobs and hinges with old-fashioned keyholes. 

Thorin felt out of place among the exquisite little details found everywhere he looked. His own small house was an ugly beige box of functionality. He preferred to spend most of his time out on his small plot of land. The mornings found him watching the sun rise as rabbits and birds and sometimes foxes began their elaborate rituals for the day.

Standing in the hallway of cream walls and dark wood trims, listening to the eager questions of his friends and family and Bilbo’s answering hum, he felt out of place. An ungainly lug in a too-tight borrowed t-shirt.

“This next room I re-designed myself,” Bilbo was saying. He opened the last door on the right.

Inside was a library. Thorin felt like Belle as he spun in a slow circle to take it all in. Books filled ceiling-high bookcases carved with dragons, elves, and other small mythical creatures. A set of French doors painted emerald green led to a small balcony overlooking the back garden.

"Re-designed?” Bofur asked. “Why? What was it before?”  
Gandalf was trying to make a dismissive gesture. Bofur looked at him, baffled.

“Ah, it was my parents’ bedroom,” Bilbo said dismissively, running his hand over a book on a side table. Thorin stared at him closely. ‘There’s a story,’ he thought.

“Well, that’s the house,” Bilbo said as he looked around at them. “Shall we have a coffee?”

Bombur helped Bilbo bring out the coffee carafes and cups to the company in the garden. The sun had fully set; the blue hour was upon them.

Thorin sipped his coffee, shifting around to be more comfortable. The night was not cold, but the t-shirt was light and did not quite reach the waistband of his pants. Dwalin walked over from speaking quietly with Ori to fall heavily into the chair beside him.

"So how're you doing?” he drained his coffee cup.

“Fine.”

"Hm.” Dwalin set his cup on the table, leaned forward with his elbows on his knees to contemplate his hands. “Bilbo seems like a nice chap, yes?”

Thorin gave him the side-eye. “Yes?”

“Yeah.” Dwalin cleared his throat. “Well, as I understand it from Bofur, they like to grab a pint together at Greybeard’s now and again. Seeing as we don’t…uh, see each other as often as we’d all like, perhaps we could join them next time.”

Thorin stared. 

“Do you see what I’m trying to say here?” 

“No. Not even Gandalf could decode that.”

Dwalin scoffed. Then he looked past Thorin.

“Bilbo! Great coffee here. Say, you don’t happen to have any more of those cookies, do you?”

Bilbo shifted awkwardly. “Yes! There’s a whole jar of them in the kitchen. And Thorin? Your shirt is about dried, if you, ah, wanted to follow me?”

 

In the kitchen Thorin stripped off the shirt he’d borrowed while Dwalin tried by turns to fit his meaty hand into the cookie jar, then broke down to shaking them out. Bilbo walked in from the laundry room with the once-again white shirt, and sighed at the cookie crumbs on the floor. 

“Thank you,” Thorin said as he pulled it over his head, shaking his rumpled hair out of his face. He caught Bilbo staring, who then made a small squeaky sound and held up the other shirt as though in apology and turned to toss it in the laundry room. Dwalin nudged his shoulder and gave him a meaningful look before taking a bite of cookie.

Bilbo turned around just as Kili came through the door with Nori.

“Mr. Baggins! There you are. Hope my uncle here isn’t bothering you too much, cornering you in the kitchen, eh?”  
He jostled Bilbo good-naturedly, who flushed. “So Mom wanted me to thank you for hosting, and sorry again she couldn’t be here, Saturday night dinner rush and all. Anyways, we-”

“Well the whole family, actually,” Nori interjected.

“-wanted to thank you, and thought, ‘Let’s invite him to dinner!’ So how about it, Mr. Baggins, our restaurant, Monday night? We’re closed then, you see, so it can be a private little party. And Mom can show off her cooking skills.”

“What about my skills?” Nori asked indignantly.

“You always show off,” Dwalin grumbled.

"So how about it, Mr. Bagggins?” Kili asked pleadingly.

Bilbo seemed on the verge of declining, when Thorin spoke up.

“How about it, Bilbo?” Thorin asked quietly.

“Well, ok yes. That sounds lovely. What time?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got over my writer's block by writing another story, then coming back to this one. Funny how that works sometimes.


	13. Dinner With the Family

Bilbo shut the door of his car, the click echoing on the dark street. Everything inside him screamed to run home; don’t you dare go into a room of strangers. He slowly inhaled as he looked at the night sky; breathed out just as slowly. It helped (slightly) to ground himself instead of allowing his anxieties to carry him away.

“Let’s get this over with, now,” he thought, before the brightness of the full moon caught his eye. “Well look at that! You don’t see a moon that shade of orange every day. Or every night? That’s the sort of sight that makes you think anything could happen, anything at all, on a night such as this.”

Bilbo felt small at times. He was physically small, true, but that wasn’t it. ‘It’ was a feeling that would come over him suddenly, all at once, in the quiet of night or on cold mid-mornings. The feeling would nestle in, comfortable like, and whisper “Is this all there is? Will there never be anything more to you?” 

His whole body would sigh. Then he would close his eyes briefly before shaking himself as though to remember. ‘Bilbo, old fellow,’ he would say, ‘Some are meant to go out into the wild wide world, and some…do not. You may never outwit a brute or tell secret riddles to strange folk, or. Or talk with dragons. But you are you. And that is enough. To be just you.’ And he would not feel comforted by this, but all the more wistful.

This moon that had risen in an inky black sky comforted him. Even though it passed him by, exciting things were happening, somewhere. And it was enough, for now, to know that events of some importance were going on, tangling up other people into loves and friendships and affairs and tragedy. Someone, not him perhaps but Someone, was living and feeling acutely all that life could offer. That could be enough.

The restaurant had a big hand painted “Closed” sign propped up in the window. Bilbo followed the adjacent alleyway around to the side and knocked three times, as Kili had insisted (Thorin had scoffed and said this wasn’t a speakeasy. ‘What’s a speakeasy?’ Kili had asked Fili, who shrugged).

Bilbo had brought Dis a bouquet of lilies of all colors from his garden. The stories that had flown around his kitchen after he had agreed to come to dinner made him just a bit nervous. Dis was apparently a very singular woman. 

————————————-

Thorin thought he looked delicious. Wait, no. Bilbo is not a slice of pie. Handsome? Urgh. Cute? Indisputably true, yet probably offensive. Adorable? Oh that’s worse. Okay. Fantastic? Oh. Yes.

“You look fantastic,” Thorin said.

Bilbo’s expression made it clear that that was _not_ the flirty compliment he was going for. 

“Thank you?” Bilbo replied hesitantly. Then, so as not to be rude:

“You look pretty dashing yourself.” 

Oh crumpets, he thought. What are you, Bilbo, a princess in a damn fairytale?

Fili and Kili were helping their mother find vases for the flowers. Bilbo would have felt sheepish about his unruly gift if it were not for the rapturous look on Dis’ face as she held the bright-colored bouquet. 

“There we are,” she said triumphantly as she placed a jam-packed vase on the table. “Alrighty then.” She nodded once, to herself, before realizing everyone was waiting for her. “Oh! Sit down, anywhere, no! Not there Thorin. Here, this spot. Okay, oh Kili, go grab the wine, the white! Not the red yet. And Fili! Go help your brother. Yes, he does! Get the glasses. Please.” She turned to speak to Bilbo. Then her head snapped back to call after her sons, “I can hear you!”

She sighed as she took off her apron and draped it over the back of a nearby chair. “ _Boys_ ,” she muttered.

Bilbo leaned closer. “I don’t know how you do it, honestly.”

This was the right thing to say. Dis’ eyes lit up as she also leaned closer. “Sometimes I don’t know either. Sometimes I forget what it was like when their tiny hands were into everything the moment my back was turned.” She gestured to Thorin. “Couldn’t have done it, really, without this lug helping me out.”

Thorin had no trouble remembering what it had been like when the boys were small and their father was gone. He remembered sticky palms and dirty mouths and sniffles. He still saw those chubby cheeks when he thought of his nephews. He had no trouble remembering his sister crying one night when the boys were not yet a year old. His strong, sweet sister who had never cried as a child over dropped ice cream cones or skinned knees.

“I did what any self-respecting big brother would do.” 

“Yes, Bilbo. He is always this gruff.” She sipped her wine, thinking. “Kinda like a bear, actually.”

Kili and Fili snorted. “Kinda?” Fili whispered.

Bilbo giggled.


	14. Tea

Ori was arguing with people online when he heard Bilbo’s car pull into the driveway. His mind made a note of it. Greeting his roommate could wait. Then the front door slammed. Ori paused in his typing, listening to the sounds of Bilbo making tea much louder than the task warranted. Maybe he’d better go downstairs.

“Bilbo?” Ori asked. Bilbo was muttering to the stove dials as he adjusted the heat under the kettle.

“Hm?” 

“You okay there?”

Bilbo flapped his hand at him as he rifled through his cabinet of tea canisters. 

Ori settled in at the kitchen table. “So. How’d dinner go?”

The answer sounded suspiciously like “(mumble) bear stupid (grumble) man bun.”

“What was that?” he asked, scooping mugs out a cabinet. Ori already knew, of course. Fili had texted him with the appropriate emojis. 

Bilbo plunked a teapot between them as he sat down. “That fucker. You know what he said about tea?”

“What did he say?” Ori knew exactly what had been said. Kili thought it hilarious enough to tweet.

Bilbo dropped his voice to a deep baritone.”Tea is just fancy water other people drink to be pretentious.” 

Ori made the required noise of disbelief. “What an asshole,” he supplied.

“Total asshole!” Bilbo agreed as he sat back down with a bottle of brandy. He added some to both mugs before continuing. “I think Dis would agree. Her cooking is incredible, by the way. I’d love to see what she could do to some mushrooms.”

They drank the rest of their tea and brandy in silence. 

“Was the whole evening bad, then?” 

“Oh, no. No I suppose, well it was fairly nice actually. Conversation was fine through dinner. Dessert was this perfect mousse-type thing with a boysenberry sauce and edible flowers and…. oh, um. Yes. Well, I mentioned to Dis that I had a tea or two that would go very nicely with it, and she asked what kind, and when I started to describe the tea leaves and how we mix things at the shop, well!” 

Bilbo poured a bit of straight brandy into his mug. “Mr. Scruffy-Man-Bun thinks he knows about the ancient, fine art of tea, my ass.” He drained his cup. 

Ori was sipping his spiked tea. Brandy would not have been his first choice. “You know, Thorin is a bit awkward or blunt at times. I’m sure he didn’t mean a thing by it. It’s just how he is.”

“Look Ori. I’ve had a lifetime of snide comments about,” Bilbo made a gesture that seemed to encompass the house; the teapot; himself. “I don’t let things cut too deep anymore.”

Ori nodded. “Don’t feed the trolls.” 

Bilbo hummed. “I’m turning in Ori. Thanks for joining me.”

As he went up the stairs Ori caught up to say, “You can talk to me Bilbo, if you have something on your mind. I’m a good listener.”

Bilbo smiled. “Thank you, Ori. It is nice having you here.”

Ori walked back to his room to flop onto his bed. He pulled out his cell phone. 

“Nori? I need a favor.”

————————————————

Dis smacked Thorin’s shoulder.

“You oaf.”

“What? How dare you. I was dashing. He said so himself.” Thorin looked entirely too pleased with this memory. But he managed to blush at his sister’s raised eyebrow.

“This would be funny if it weren’t so sad. How can you have gotten to this point in your life and _still_ not know how to make polite conversation for, like, one date? Just one!” She threw her hands up in despair of her brother’s failed romantic prospects.

Thorin walked her to her car, where the boys were texting on their phones. “Was it a date?” he muttered. 

Dis still heard. She sighed. “It was meant to be an easy date, yes.” She patted his arm. “You still crashed and burned.”

Fili was waiting to open the passenger door for her. “You’re so good to your mother, dear.” She waited until he popped into the driver seat. “You still aren’t forgiven for skipping out on Ori, sweetie.” 

His brother snorted from the back seat. 

———————————————-

The tea shop was bustling.

Mid-mornings were popular, as they served a plain but good coffee too. Bilbo chatted with Dori between orders; he had plans to bring a berry tea to the menu for summer.

“Maybe blackberry with mint? Over ice?”

“That’s what I was thinking, but then blueberry goes particularly well with lemon-“

“Dori?” Ori interrupted. “Nori’s here.”

Dori looked momentarily confused, but went over to where Nori had commandeered a corner table. Bilbo pretended not to stare. He couldn’t help it sometimes: he wondered what it might be like, having a brother. 

“Sometimes I imagine that I’m an only child,” Ori confided as he restocked the to-go cups. “I’m never a tie-breaker or a pawn.”

“Oh I’m sure it’s not all that.”

“No it is all of that, Bilbo. But I think I would miss it, if it were any different.”

A ringing bell caused Bilbo to glance at the front entrance. So did Nori.

“Thorin! Over here.”

Though he looked away quickly, Thorin had zeroed in on Bilbo’s deer-in-headlights look right away. He hadn’t really believed Dis. Dates, the few that he managed over the past ten years, were typically disappointing affairs it was true. But he had thought his latest was not the write-off his sister had hinted. Bilbo’s expression made him rethink that.

He nodded at Ori’s friendly wave and made his way to the corner. He had business to discuss. Although Dis was officially the owner and mastermind behind the restaurant, she relied on Nori, her second-in-command, to take care of procurement. He had a talent for getting his hands on things.

Dis wanted to change up the menu for the summer season. More fresh vegetables. And she wanted to offer new desserts, with a complimentary tea pairings menu. Nori’s job was to make a list of potential ingredients. Then, he and Dis would kick around ideas and find out what worked. There were other ways of getting the information, true. But meeting with both Thorin and Dori at the tea shop could lead to information of a different nature. 

“Dis needs to remember there are forces of nature at work here. I cannot always guarantee perfect-looking zucchini.”

“Completely understood. You leave the worry to us. We can manage, so long as there is a few days notice, not, say, a few hours before Saturday night dinner rush.” He looked around. “Is this not a teashop Dori? Where’s my fancy teapot and scones?”

Dori glared before he rose and walked to the counter regally. “Oh, Bilbo?”

Bilbo looked up from where he was putting bills in the register. “Yes?”

“How would you feel about…experimenting a little early?”

He considered. “I think I could whip something up?”

Ori said nothing, but felt uneasy.

———————————————-

“Strawberry?”

“With a kick,” Bilbo said with a wink. Thorin realized almost immediately the flirty attitude was sarcasm. His mouth was on fire. 

“I like it,” Nori said, examining his glass. “But maybe not as a tea. Actually…” he scrambled up from the table, pulling his phone out as he left.

“Oh look, there he goes,” Dori supplied, totally unbothered by the hasty exit.

Thorin had resorted to digging ice cubes out of the non-strawberry-jalapeno tea glasses and sucking on them noisily. “Hot,” he explained. 

Bilbo felt only a little bad. Mostly he was grinning at the sight of a bearded man attempting to look dignified with a handful of ice in his mouth. 

“Although those will melt eventually, let me get you a water cup.”

Thorin nodded his thanks and hid behind his hair to spit the ice into his abandoned glass of pink tea. 

“I hadn’t realized tea could be interesting.”

“Well, it certainly isn’t boring.”

“Weeell…”

“It is not boring. It is one of the oldest drinks in the world!”

Thorin scoffed. “And only little old ladies drink it.”

Bilbo sputtered. “Only- Well! At least people like tea! NO ONE LIKES VEGETABLES.”

From the general area of the counter a faint “Oooohhhhh,” could be heard.


	15. Finally

The door tinkled merrily as Gandalf strolled into the shop. 

“Good morning,” he called, smiling. Then he did a double-take. “Ah, hello Thorin, Bilbo. Lovely day, isn’t it?”

Without a word, Thorin pushed past him towards the exit.

Gandalf turned to watch him go. “Something I said?” he asked Bilbo.

Bilbo also walked away without a word, leaving Gandalf to hurrumph to himself. “Maybe not such a morning to be good on.”

Dori, at least, was glad to see him, as he usually was. “Hello Gandalf! Nice to see a friendly face this morning.”

“Hm. Sounds like there might be a story there.”

“Oh, don’t get me started…”

Dori, in fact, did get started. Gandalf sat quietly with his cup of Earl Grey and listened.

——————————————

Saturday morning dawned clear and bright, allowing voices to be carried as easily as bird song.

“What? No! We are always, ALWAYS, at this spot-“

“Well, they didn’t call me!”

“Fine. FINE! Just where are we being moved to?”

The teashop’s booth for the farmer’s market was moved from an out-of-the way corner to the middle of a lane, next to Bombur’s baked goods. Bombur and Bofur were pleased with their new neighbors to the left. One occupant of the booth to the right of Bombur and Bofur was not.

Thorin glared over his box of cabbages. 

“Oh hey Ori!” Kili called cheerfully as he unfurled their banner.

Fili whistled while stacking kale and rutabaga spears.

Bombur sensed the tension like a seismograph. He comforted himself with a second fruit pasty. 

Bofur frowned back and forth at the tea canisters and stacks of bread before snapping his fingers. “I’ve got it! Dori, you fellas offer samples, yes?” Dori nodded, busy arranging his canisters just so. “We’ll combine our samples, draw customers to both, yeah?”

Bilbo tapped his foot as he thought. “How would we do that? With napkins, or…?”

As they planned how exactly to offer sweets and tiny cups of tea to unsuspecting passersby, Thorin frowned at the bunches of beets he was arranging in an attempt to look busy. Bombur appeared at his elbow to pat his shoulder. 

“I’m not jealous,” he grumbled. 

Bombur gave him a look before sitting down behind his table piled high with sweet rolls, loaves of bread, and danishes. He sighed in satisfaction as he finished his breakfast. 

“Oi, boys! Breakfast.” Bofur gestured to the tiny plastic cups of tea and slivers of bread.

Fili looked wary. “I’ll uh, pass thanks.”

———————————————

Passers-by did stop and take a nibble at Bofur’s insistence, leading to more inquiries and, eventually, purchases. Ori was kept busy refilling the electric kettle and keeping an eye on the brewing. Bilbo kept himself busy selling his ass off. He had a point to make concerning the popularity and ubiquity of tea.

Thorin watched all of this from the shade of his canopy. He thought the quality of his produce was clearly superior, and practically sold itself. Thankfully, Fili and Kili knew actually talking to people was more likely to end in a sale of some sort. 

The day grew unpleasantly hot all at once. The air pressed on one’s skin with a warm weight. Thorin felt the sweat drip from behind his ears. His hair was secured tightly off his neck, and his feelings about the weather were summed up by Kili:

“Urgh. Fuck it’s hot.”

As much as he agreed with his nephew’s opinion about the swiftly changing seasons, Thorin tried to not offend his elderly patrons. Specifically the wisp of a woman who faithfully bought vegetables each Saturday (Fili teased that she was more interested in watching his uncle’s hands as he made change, but he chose not to dwell on that). He took the precaution of strapping two rubber bands around his bun this morning, with several more around his wrist. 

Thorin was bagging a gritty bunch of beets when he felt a nudge at his elbow. He startled badly. As did Bilbo, who had thought, smugly, that offering a cup of their currant top seller would not go amiss. And of course could give him an excuse to get up close and personal. 

Bilbo yipped at the splash of hot liquid across his front and let out a stream of curses. 

Thorin had the social etiquette to curse inwardly. “Well you shouldn’t go sneaking around!”

Bilbo responded by reaching forward to pluck at the thickest rubber band around his wrist. The sharp _crack_ echoed in the sudden silence.

Thorin went very still. “Would you.” He cleared his throat. “Would you like allow me to treat you to lunch?”

Bilbo frowned. He looked over his shoulder at Bombur, who nodded enthusiastically. He turned back to Thorin, searching for any sign of mockery, and finding none, agreed.

“Yes, I suppose. That would be alright.”


	16. Let's Go

Thorin was not panicking. He was a grown man. He ran his own business. And he could actually pull off the long hair without looking like an extra from _Hamilton_. Mature businessmen with great hair did not get butterflies over a lunch date.

Except for Thorin, apparently. 

Thorin looked for Fili and found him smirking. “Not a word,” he growled. 

Fili shrugged. As soon as he turned his back, Thorin heard his nephews chuckling. He sighed. It was going to be a long Market Day.

———————————————————

“So.” 

“Yes?”

Ori shrugged. “You know.”

“Ah. Yes. Well, er.”

“Hot date?” Ori supplied.

Bilbo snorted. Given how things had gone on their previous meetings, he suspected their lunch would end with him upending his drink in the man’s face. But as it was an attractive face, the misunderstandings might be worth it.

“Where will you be going?” Ori tried again.

At this Bilbo realized he did not know. Thorin had simply nodded at his acquiescence. The rumbling of his belly encouraged Bilbo to get things moving. 

Bilbo found him giving what looked like a stern lecture to one of his nephews (Fili or Kili, he couldn’t keep them straight). Thorin turned quickly when the brunet spotted Bilbo and smirked. 

“Ready?” He plunged his hands into his trouser pockets, going for nonchalance and overshooting. “Actually, if you don’t have a preference at the moment, I know just the place.”

Thorin preferred to not make a fool of himself. He would also prefer to make a good impression, such a good impression, in fact, that one Mr. Bilbo Baggins would decide to take him home and… And it was really too early in the day for sex fantasies. He was fairly sure Bilbo would not appreciate such thoughts (in actuality Bilbo may have already thought extensively about riding his face and pulling on that long hair).

“Erm, not quite. You see-”

“He needs a ride,” Kili said with all the bluntness of teenaged boy. 

“Kili!” Thorin growled. Then he turned to Bilbo and sighed. “It seems my enthusiasm has caused me to forget that I am my nephews’ ride home. If you don’t mind-“

“-giving Uncle here a ride home?” Kili supplied. At his uncle’s sudden glare he played the innocent. “What? Why drive all the way home just to turn back around? Lunch will be over by then! It would be late-lunch. Or early dinner!” He leaned in closer and whispered in falsetto, “The senior discount dinner isn’t sexy, you know!”

 

—————————————————

“Tacos?” 

Bilbo kept his eyes forward as he pulled the old brown sedan into a drive-thru lane that had seen better days…maybe thirty years ago. “Don’t tell me you don’t like Mexican?”

“I do.” Thorin answered. “Wouldn’t have thought you did.” 

“Oh?” Bilbo replied with a flat politeness. 

Thorin did not do well with small talk. Impersonal, polite conversations seemed rife with potential offenses and missed opportunities. He preferred to speak on topics he was well versed in, such as history, political theory, environmental preservation, and gardening. But he wanted to break out of the stalemate he found himself in with this feisty man of cultured tone and barbed retorts. 

He tried again. “I believe my nephews enjoy the food here. How did you come to find it?”

Bilbo defrosted by degrees as they made polite comments that spoke of nothing but a desire to learn more about each other and a restraint that hindered it. The cozy bubble they had formed evaporated when the window outside the car banged open.

“Oh, you again.” The youth said as he took their change. “Non-commitment lunch, then?”

“Oi! It’s not a date!” Bilbo burst out as he clutched the warm paper bag. The window had banged shut before he had finished. He sighed as handed the bag over. “Would you like to eat at that park over there, or…?”

“Well, I would have offered up my place as our destination, but seeing as this is not a date…” Thorin teased.

Bilbo shot him a glare. “Which way to your house then?”

“Oh. Ok then.” Thorin gave the directions with a fluttering in his belly.

——————————————————————-

_**Earlier** _

Fili was loading up the truck when his uncle cornered Kili. “Where’s Fili?”

His brother shrugged. “Oh. He’s around. Why, did you need him?”

“Yes!” Thorin exclaimed. He flinched at the loudness of his own voice. “I may have made hasty plans,” he continued in a lower tone, “and now need to rethink them. Did you see where he went off to?”

Fili hoped he would be able to sneak away soon. He had not seen Legolas in a week. The few vague and occasionally flirty texts they had sent back and forth made him anxious. Would they go out again? Alone? Would they sit close? Would Legolas hold his hand or. Or maybe let Fili kiss him again? The past week had been a lucid dream, with nothing but the thought of seeing him again propelling time forward. 

“Hey!”

Fili startled as him brother suddenly appeared at his side. “Hey,” he replied warily.

“So, we’re driving the truck back for Uncle. Or, well, I guess we’re stopping home to grab your car and then I’m driving it back to his place. Hot date you know.” He laughed at the thought. But Fili gave a half-hearted chuckle. “Hey, you ok man?” 

“Oh, yeah. Yeah I’m just. Um,” Fili backed away from his brother, studying the ground. “I’ll be right back. Or actually, I’ll meet you there? Just be a minute!” he called over his shoulder.

The juicing booth was nearly packed away but for the canopy. Fili had caught the two youths as they were arguing.

“Stop stop stop! Urgh. Fuck it. It’s fucking stuck.” Tauriel muttered.

“It is not stuck. We’ve been through this. You are not pressing on the release hard enough!” Legolas hissed.

“Oh I am pressing HARD- ouch!” Tauriel ripped her hand away. It looked normal at first. Then a thin red line snaked across the meaty portion of her palm, revealing a sliced portion of skin. Blood pooled and dripped onto the pavement. “Stupid fucking shitty canopy,” she muttered viciously, pressing against the flesh. 

“Tauriel?” Legolas asked.

“Oh shit! Are you okay?” Fili asked.

“Hey Fili are you ready to go- OH god do you need a band-aid?! You need a band-aid! I have first-aid! Something in the- I’ll be right back! Stay calm!” Kili sprinted to his uncle’s truck, ever helpful and cool under pressure. 

The coppery smell of blood was made pungent by the hot afternoon. Legolas produced an overabundance of napkins for Tauriel, who laughed at everyone’s reaction. 

“Really, guys. It’s just a cut.” She pitched her voice low. “Tis but a scratch! Haha.”

No laughed with her. She took the proffered bandage and accepted Legolas’s help in applying it. When that was finished, she looked around. “Why’s everyone staring? _I’m fine._ Wait, what are you two doing here?”

“Oh, we’re just…” Kili looked to Fili with his eyebrows raised questioningly.

“Uh, just coming by to say hello.” 

“Hello?” Tauriel asked.

“Hello.” Legolas said quietly.

“Hello.” Fili replied.

“Hello!” Kili said with an accompanying wave of his hand. “Now that that is out of the way, we must be going.”

“Wait!” Legolas interjected, moving as though to grab Fili’s arm. “Why don’t we go out tonight? All of us,” he added quickly. 

“All of us?” Tauriel echoed.

Kili, usually a whir of energy, stood unnaturally still. “Yes, let’s all go somewhere tonight,” he breathed. 

“Ok,” Fili agreed shyly. 

“Where are we going, Leggy?” 

“Uh. Karoke!” 

“Yes!”

“Noooo!”

“Really?” 

“Really. I’ll text you,” he promised Fili, before shooting a look at Tauriel and pointedly walking back to the partially collapsed canopy. He snapped it shut with considerable force, then began packing it away with jerky movements.

Tauriel sighed. “See you guys later then.”

“Yeah, later.” Fili said with a small smile.

“See you,” Kili grinned.


	17. Getting Ready

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's a short chapter while I work on the next one.

“So why are we going out tonight? To sing, of all things?”

Tauriel was digging through her closet for the other half of a pair of shoes. Legolas had picked up one of the dozen swimming magazines stacked against her bed and was flipping through lazily.

“Because you haven’t been out in weeks.”

“I go out all the time!”

Legolas didn’t bother to look up. “Name once.”

Tauriel sat back on her heels, gesturing with a leopard print flat. “A few nights ago. We got free tacos, I think.”

“That was last month!”

“Uh, no it wasn’t.”

Legolas gently slapped her shoulder with the edge of the now discarded magazine. “Yes it was.” He stood up with a superior air. “We are going on double date. You are not having another night in binge watching that weird show with my dad.”

Tauriel grabbed his leg, wrestling him down to tickle until his face turned pink. “Date number two is it?! Does he get to second base tonight?”

“Who is getting to second base?” Thranduil stood in the doorway. “It sounds like a herd of elephants up here.”

“Um, hi Dad.” Legolas squirmed away from Tauriel, who resumed looking for the missing shoe. “We’re going out tonight. Oh, and would you know it? The new avocado-mint smoothie did really well today! You know, I think we should bring it back next week too. A few people actually asked if we would? So I’ll just go add that to the list for next week before I forget.”

Legolas made to move past his father in the hall and escape further questions. Thranduil was having none of it.

“How nice. Where are you going tonight? Will there be alcohol?”

“We will be going to that karaoke bar you like. Yes, there is alcohol. Tauriel will be sober,” at this Tauriel made a noise, “as we’ve agreed!” He insisted.

“And when did we agree on this?” she asked.

“You actually volunteered,” (Tauriel raised an eyebrow) “when I came back from my date last Saturday to find you and Dad stalking my date’s social media!”

Thranduil and Tauriel both started speaking at once.

“Whoa, that is a gross allegation-“

“I asked how it worked and that page just _happened_ to be open-“

“-and I thought I apologized for that already.”

“-and I found several points that make me believe this boy is trouble.”

Tauriel studied Thranduil. “Why is ‘this boy’ trouble?” she asked, using her fingers as quotation marks. 

Legolas crossed his arms. “I can make my own decisions, Dad.” Then he dropped the serious demeanor. “It’s not like he’s a drug dealer or anything!”

Thranduil studied both of the faces turned to him. He sighed. “Sit down.” Tauriel moved to sit cross-legged, wiggling into position. Legolas sank slowly to the bed.

“You know I am very protective of you,” he began, ignoring Tauriel’s chuckle, “and I know that at times I overstep my bounds. But trust me when I say that a boy who suddenly develops an interest in other boys at this age is seldom…true in his affections.”

“Well that sounds like you are putting Fili in a box,” Tauriel commented.

“Or a closet,” Legolas quipped.

Thranduil laughed despite himself. “I know about these things, Legolas. Do not make the mistake of getting too attached to what might be.” Wisdom imparted, he patted his son’s head and left the two to finish getting ready. But not before adding, “Leopard print on a first date is really trying too hard, darling.”

 

———————————————

Kili had tried on three shirts in 10 minutes. “Ok, this one!” He made eye contact will his brother in the mirror. “Right?” He did a little back and forth motion.

“Mmm, no.” Fili went back to fixing his hair. 

Kili looked down at the vetoed shirt. “Yeah maybe you’re right.” He dashed back to their shared room. “Is that my phone or yours?” He called.

Fili listened. “Mine!” He rushed from the bathroom, anticipation making his hands sweat. Then he saw who was really calling. “It’s Mom!” he called. 

“Hi Mom.”

“What’s wrong? You sound sad.” ( _“NO! The celery root goes with the duck!”_ ) “Sorry, honey, it’s a little crazy here tonight.”

“No, Mom. I’m fine. Kili’s fine. We’re going out tonight though, shouldn’t be out too late, okay?”

“Well, if something is wrong-“ ( _Yes, the rice pilaf with the-yes, that!_ ) “sorry, what was I saying?”

“We’ll see you when you get home Mom. Love you!” Fili quickly added,”Don’t worry!”

“Well, I love you too. Be safe!”

Fili hung up. Then he pulled up the last text message Legolas had sent him.

“What did Mom say?” Kili asked.

Fili startled. “Oh nothing. You ready?”

Kili held his arms out and smiled proudly. “How do I look?”

“Like a sad panda.”

Kili made a face. “What does that even mean?”

“I don’t know.” He put a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “But I know I really mean it.”


	18. Help Me Out Here

Saturday Afternoon  
Thorin’s House

 

“You ever feel like you’ll never be excited by anything ever again?” Bilbo asked suddenly.

Thorin nearly choked on his beer. “What?”

“Like nothing will ever be, well, big enough, strange enough, to excite you? Ever again, like this is your life and there will never be anything more?” Bilbo drizzled salsa verde on his last taco.

Thorin took a few minutes to consider. They were finishing up lunch on a rickety little metal table he had parked beside the back door ages ago that overlooked his land. Long strands of crab grass nearly swallowed their feet. Bilbo had dropped a sauce container earlier and Thorin had commented, “Well that’s gone forever.” On some early mornings, just before the sun would rise and the world was soft and grey, Thorin would wander barefoot on the soft green, admiring the growth of the plants. 

“I think we all grow complacent with the lives we create for ourselves. That is the goal. However, a life with no anticipation, no fire, seems closer to death than life.” He gulped some more beer, wiped his wet mouth with the back of a hand. “You cannot wait for an adventure to knock on your front door. Sometimes, you must go out and find it yourself. Who knows, it may have gotten lost.”

Bilbo smiled, amused by the thought. “Have you ever sought your own adventure then?”

Thorin, whose confidence had grown in the last few minutes, felt it disappear with a heavy weight in his belly. “A time or two.” He coughed. “But that was a long time ago.”

“Oh?” Bilbo asked lightly. His interest was piqued. 

“Perhaps that is a story ill suited to such a mild afternoon.” Thorin prevaricated. 

“Would it be better suited over dinner?” Bilbo asked before his mind caught up with his mouth.

Thorin stared at the table. He didn’t trust his face to play it cool. “I believe it would.”

Bilbo nodded, his palms moist. “What..” he faltered; cleared his throat. “And would tomorrow night around eight be good?”

“It would. Where-“

“I’ll cook. If you’re amendable.”

“I am.”

Bilbo nodded again to himself. “Right. Alright then.”  
———————————

Bilbo unlocked his front door and jumped at the figure silhouetted by the late afternoon sunlight. 

“I want details,” Ori demanded. 

Bilbo let the door fall shut. “Oh you do, do you?” he asked mockingly, making his way around Ori towards the kitchen. Ori grinned and followed him.

“Oh Bilbo. What did you do now?” 

He groaned. “I may have offered to make Thorin dinner. Here. Tomorrow.”

“Really?” Ori exclaimed, sounding entirely too pleased in Bilbo’s opinion.

“Yes!” Bilbo began to make tea, for lack of anything better to do. “I don’t even know what to cook for him,” he mused.

“Well, I think cooking for your date is a very sexy move,” Ori commented as he went to a drawer and pulled out a pad of paper and a pen.

“What are you doing?” Bilbo asked as the kettle heated.

Ori directed his answer to the paper he was writing ‘Sexy Date Plan” on. “Helping. Oh, what time will he be over? I’ll make myself scarce.”

Bilbo made a noise of disbelief. “Like that will really be necessary.”

Ori raised an eyebrow. “It might be.”

They were both quiet as Bilbo poured hot water into a tea pot. “Okay,” he conceded as they sat across from each other, each with a steaming cup. “Now, I may have done this once or a dozen times in my life. But.” He sipped. “What would you suggest?”

Ori held up his Plan, the paper now filled. “You may have experience, but as you have said, you think he is gorgeous (Bilbo blushed) and for that reason alone, not to mention how long it’s probably been (Bilbo frowned) I think, the key to a successful evening is to be prepared. It would be an oversight, say, to cook something that gives you bad breath, or forget to buy condoms or whatever.”

“Ori.”

“Yeah?” he asked, adding a few words to his notes.

“Do you do this for all your, your dates?” 

Ori looked up. “Oh I plan out more than just my hook-ups! I had had a plan to move out of Dori’s. But then we argued, and, well! We know how that went! So while yes, things can sometimes work out even unexpectedly, it is much better to have a plan.” He tapped the pad.

Good lord, Bilbo thought. It’s like a mini, ginger Dori.

————————————-

Saturday Evening  
Karoke Bar

“I’m going to need your help here.”

Tauriel turned to regard Kili’s whisper. “What?”

He motioned for her to slow their pace. The two blonds continued on ahead. “Ok,” he went on in at a normal volume. “I think my brother would be more comfortable if we gave the two of them some space.” 

“How so?” Tauriel shifted. The long winding straps of her sandals were digging into her ankles. She was already thinking of how nice it would be to get them off at the end of the night.

Kili’s response was interrupted by the other half of their party calling for them by the entrance. His fingers gently latched onto hers. The hesitant touch surprised her, as did her ambivalence towards it. She had neither desired to hold his hand nor did was she repulsed by his touch. She wasn’t sure how she felt. Legolas smiled as he held the door for them.

Kili caught her eye as they circled their table. He moved to pull her chair out for her and she laughed. He laughed too, abet uneasily. “Pretend to talk to me, so they don’t feel weird, please?”

Tauriel felt unease at this after Thranduil’s earlier warning. She glanced at the other two, her ire softening at Leggy’s smiling shyly at his date. “Okay,” she whispered.

———————————-

Thranduil frowned at the ruckus being made downstairs. He checked the bedside clock: 1:06 am. Just past Legolas’s curfew. He stuck a bookmark in his latest read and rubbed his eyes. ‘I feel too old for this,’ he thought.

The stairs were evidently an unforeseen obstacle, if the load thuds were anything to go by. Peals of laughter rang out before being shushed and ineffectually smothered. “Oh yes,” Thranduil called out dryly, “drunkenness is hilarious.”

The giggling stopped. “Oh hey Dad,” Legolas whispered hoarsely from his half crouch at the top step of the stairs. 

“Oh hey son,” Thranduil replied sarcastically as he made his way over.“I thought Tauriel was abstaining tonight.”

“I did!” Came an indignant reply. “Leggy’s just…funny,” she finished vaguely. 

Legolas, who had an unfortunate tendency to flush from any level of alcohol, was now red-faced with embarrassment. 

“Is he really?” his father asked disdainfully. Then he took pity. “Save the jokes for the morning, please. It is very late.” He patted his son’s shoulder before returning to his room. The light went out almost immediately.

Tauriel helped Legolas up. “Go, get some sleep,” she whispered before pushing him towards his room. He patted her hand and changed route towards the bathroom. He heard her door close as he spread toothpaste on his toothbrush. The mundane routine of self-care allowed his thoughts to drift back over the events of the night. He smiled.

 

———————————

“Shhh!” Kili whispered loudly. Fili rolled his eyes. This was a routine he knew well. But it never failed to make his mother smile.

Kili made a show of opening the front door slowly, softly, and tip toeing inside, peering around the corner as though he was fooling anybody. 

“What’s this?” their mother exclaimed from the kitchen table, her feet propped up and a glass of wine in her hand. “My boys sneaking into the house after curfew!” She sipped, her eyes sparkling over the rim.

Fili, the only one present not riding the smooth wave of alcohol in his bloodstream, sighed. “We don’t have a curfew, Mom.”

Dis smacked the table. “Dammit, I knew I should have read those parenting books.”

This got a laugh from Fili, a rare occurrence. Kili had made a beeline for the bathroom to grab aspirin, then filled a tall glass with tap water and was chugging it down. He sighed explosively. 

“So what were you two up to tonight?” 

“We went out with some friends. Nothing special,” Fili said, meeting her eyes. It was a bad thing for him that that was the tell that made his mother know when he was lying.

“Oh?” she prompted.

“Yep,” Kili interjected, drawing the attention to himself. “We thought karoke would be fun-“

“ _Fili_ thought singing would be fun? Sober?” 

“Well, maybe _I_ suggested it-“

“No, Legolas said we should-“

“Oh! Right, right. Anyways, it was great, we sang a duet! Really impressive vocal range, that guy.”

“Wait, who is Leglassie?” She frowned. “Is this one I’ve met?”

Fili studied the table. “Legolas. No, he’s a. A new friend.”

Dis looked at Kili, wondering why one of her son’s was being cagey. Kili gave her a look.

“Well, if you see much more of him, bring him by sometime. I like to know about my baby’s friends, what kind of people they are and the like.”

Kili scoffed. “We aren’t children anymore.”

“When you are a parent, your children are always your babies. You want to protect them as long as you can.”


	19. Love Today

“This is going to be a great day. I can feel it.” Kili stretched, hands reaching upwards, his shirt revealing a soft belly.

“Yeah, that’s the coffee kicking in,” his brother responded, yawning.

Kili grinned. “Finally got a shift together. That’s a start.”

Fili smiled at his optimism. The mall was quiet for a Sunday morning. A middle-aged man speed walked down the corrider, passing the female security guard doing her rounds in a too-large shirt. She didn’t smile back at Kili’s grin.

“There’s a tough one,” he commented.

Fili squatted by the open tubs to mindlessly sort Legos by color. “When you smile like that, they think you’re flirting,” he said as he moved little piles around. “If they smile back, they think it’s like an invitation for more. And maybe they don’t really want that.”

Kili frowned. “But it doesn’t have to be that. I don’t always mean it like that. Can’t a guy say hello without there being a motive?”

“Not according to women,” Fili responded. “Oh hey! I found a sword.” He smiled, holding it up to the light.

“Let me see,” Kili demanded as leaned over.

“No.” 

“Come on,” he said, making a swipe for it. 

“Nope, I found it.” Fili jammed his hands in his apron pockets, taunting his brother. Kili pretended to lose interest. Then he lunged forward and grabbed Fili’s forearm to tug uselessly. In the playful scuffling they did not notice they had a customer. 

“Am I interrupting something?”

Fili was laughing and red-faced when he turned to see Legolas standing hesitantly near the store entrance. He quickly crossed his arms and shook his head. “No no. I mean, no we were just-“ he cleared his throat. “What brings you here?” 

Kili nonchalantly began tidying the perfect rows of boxes nearby. 

Legolas came closer. “I thought I would return this to you.” He pulled a stone out of his pocket. “I think, or I thought last night that it was yours? It was on the floor under our table.”

Fili only had eyes for the smooth green stone in the other boy’s outstretched palm. “It’s mine,” he said. He took it back gently. “I can’t believe I almost lost this,” he said as he stroked his thumb over the engravings. He looked up. “Thank you.”

Legolas nodded. “I thought so.”

“Thought what?” Kili asked. He had grown bored with pretending to give the two privacy.

“That the, uh, stone mattered.” Legolas’s hands fidgeted. “He’d want it back and, well I gave it back, so.” His hands fell as he nodded once, decisively.

“Hm,” Kili grunted, unsatisfied. He was interrupted by the shriek of an excited toddler entering the store with a harried mother in tow. “I’ll take this one,” he said. 

Legolas fidgeted. Fili longed to touch him, on the arm, his pale neck; to hold his hand. “I’ll walk you out.”

“So,” Fili began as they ambled over to the entrance. “Fireworks tonight!” he blushed at Legolas’s smirk. He tried to play it off by rolling his eyes. “I know a place with a great view,” he offered suggestively. Legolas paused just outside the store, considering.

“Is that an invitation?” he asked.

Fili crossed his arms. “I’m not sharing that knowledge for my health,” he pointed out, gesturing with his thumbs. Normally, he just had to mention things a certain way for his past dates to recognize what he was asking. He was starting to realize that that would not work with the tall blond in front of him.

Legolas leaned in a little. “Is it an invitation?” he asked softly.

Fili swallowed. “Yes,” he answered roughly. 

Legolas grinned. “I’ll drive.”

 

—————————————————

“What’s going on with your brother?”

Kili looked up from the bowl he was washing. “What do you mean?”

Dis crossed her arms. “You know very well what I mean.”

He considered how best to answer. “I’ve been thinking about Dad a lot recently.”

“What?”

Kili carefully placed the bowl aside without seeing her startled expression. “You know, about why he left. I know you believe it was because he wasn’t happy to have a wife and two kids so young. He wanted to be able to fuck off and not be…” he searched for the right word.

“Responsible?”

“Caged.” He looked at his mother with sympathy. “I think people mistake happiness for people. Wait, I… I think that people believe that the right person will make their whole life happy. And it just doesn’t work like that.”

“You think he needed me to make him happy?” she asked.

Kili moved in to hug her. “No. I think he needed to find out how to make himself happy with his choices. You couldn’t ever do that for him.”

Dis felt cold. She had picked herself up after the boys father had left before Fili was even three years old. Well-meaning friends and relatives had tried to comfort her. It always made her sadder, and then it just made her angry until she refused to speak about it at all. She had made a life for herself and her children without him. And it was a good life. But hearing these words from her youngest made her terribly sad. 

“I don’t know if I feel better for knowing it wasn’t about me, or worse because there was nothing I could have done,” she laughed. It wasn’t a nice laugh.

Kili shifted. “I’m sorry, Ma-”

Dis tightened up her expression again. “You still didn’t answer my question. What is up with Fili these days?”

“Oh! Ha, well see. He made a, well.”

Dis waited. “Well? He made what? A cake? A baby? Oh my god! It’s not that is it?” she demanded, shaking him by the shirt.

“No, no! Ha, that’s not even possible,” Kili chuckled.

Dis looked confused. “How would it not be…OH!”

“Oh shit.”

“Ohhhhhh.” Dis looked sly. 

“Mom, I-”

“I didn’t hear it from you,” she smiled, bobbing him on the nose. She plucked up her bag on the way to the door. “I’ll be home about the usual time, sweetie. I love you!” The front door shut with a click.

Kili was frozen in the kitchen. “Shit.”

——————————————

“What?!” Dis snapped.

“Well hello to you to! How is my favorite sister, you’re sounding pleasant, as always.” 

Dis rolled her eyes. “I’m about to walk into work. It’s Sunday. I’m running five minutes late. _What do you want?_

Thorin was at his usually grocery store. He was in the wine aisle, confused and frustrated by the variety. “What wine is best served with dinner?”

Dis smacked her forehead. She wished it were possible to reach through the phone to slap her brother too. “Are you fucking kidding me Thorin?”

On the other end of the line, Thorin put down a bottle of Pinot Noir. “No. What wine is a good one to bring for a dinner date?” 

“You have a date?” She asked with a different tone.

“Urgh. Yes, I am on my way to a date. He’s cooking, so, I need to bring a bottle of wine. Or something. But I don’t know which damn bottle to bring that won’t make me look like an idiot.”

Dis felt like slapping him again. “You’re buying the wine _on the way_ to your date’s house?”

Thorin was re-thinking this phone call. “Yes?”

“Thorin- you know what? Nevermind. Bring a goddamn merlot and a moscato. The merlot may not work with dinner, but the moscato will go in the fridge and be chilled by the time you have dessert.”

“Oh. Alright. Which, ah, region? Or brand…”

“Thorin.”

“Hm?”

“You goddamn beautiful disaster. Just grab the five dollar bottle, alright?”

Thorin looked around. “But-Oh! That was easy. Thank you Dis.” He hung up.

Dis stared at her phone in disbelief. The side door to the restaurant swung open as Nori strolled out, a cigarette hanging from his mouth and a lighter in his hand. “Hey boss,” he mumbled as he lit the tip.

“Spare one for me?” she asked hopefully.

“For you? Of course.” He lit one for her. “Want to talk about it?” he asked.

Dis blew out the pungent smoke on a sigh. “Maybe later.”

They smoked in peace for a few minutes before heading in to get ready for the night.


	20. I Just Stay a Victim If I Can't Be Sure

Fili had thrown on a clean shirt an hour before their meeting time. That first one wasn’t quite right so he put on another, this one with a collar. And then, feeling foolish as he tugged at the buttons, switched back to the original shirt. He looked himself over in the tiny bathroom’s mirror, and after uselessly patting it into some order unclasped his hair to re-braid it into some semblance of purposeful disorder. The sharp knock on the bathroom door startled him.

“What Kili?” he groused.

“Want a burrito?”

Fili continued to fiddle with his hair. “No, I do not.” He checked to make sure everything laid properly. It didn’t. “Damn it,” he huffed, carefully undoing and redoing the bun part. He checked again. “Not bad.”.  
(‘Does _he_ think you’re ‘not bad?’) “Ridiculous,” he muttered before wrenching the door open. He went searching for a sweater to throw on, anticipating the chill late summer nights could bring.

Kili stood in their room with a burrito in one hand, the other rummaging ineffectually through their comic book stash. “Where’s that newest _Hawkeye_?”

“Uhhh…check under the pile of clothes on the desk.”

He heard a muffled crash from the bedroom. “Nope, not here either!” 

Fili filled a glass with water from the kitchen sink and sipped it slowly. “Can’t help you bro,” he called.

Kili moved his search to the living room, brow puzzling. “Weren’t you reading it? No spoilers!” he added quickly.

He shuffled through a stack of old mail on the kitchen table. “I wanted to know what happened next,” he said distractedly, wandering into the living room. “Why was Kate so upset with Clint,” he muttered, squatting down to peer under the couch. “Why keep a secret that eats at you…Ah ha!” He moved the couch away from the wall, plucking up the lost comic book with a grin. Fili raised an eyebrow. 

Kili clutched it protectively. “This is your doing,” he mock accused. He flipped through the slim book. “Why don’t people just talk these things out?” he whispered, turning to go back to their shared room. Then he spun around and gave his brother a once over. “You going out?”

Fili stared at the dirty dishes in the sink. “Yep. Going out with some friends to watch the fireworks.”

“THat’s toNIGHT?!”

“Yeah-“ Fili began with a laugh as the doorbell buzzed. Neither moved to answer it.

“I would have thought we, you know. Would go together. Or let the other know what we were planning,” Kili said lowly, like it didn’t really matter at all.

Fili shifted. “I’m letting you know now.” He moved to answer the door, ignoring the scoff behind him.

Legolas stood there on his doorstep, hands in his pockets and a soft smile on his face. “Ready?” he asked.

Fili swallowed. “Yeah,” he tried not to, but glanced back at Kili before shutting the door. He didn’t look up from his comic, but Fili knew he wasn’t really reading it. “See you later.” Kili looked at him from lowered brows but said nothing.

He shut the door gently, feeling uneasy and excited and a little bit shaky. Then Legolas bumped his shoulder with his own. “So…”

“Hm?”

“Third…hang-out.”

“Heh. Yeah, so?”

Legolas walked him to the passenger’s side of his car. He held open the door with a flourish. Fili wondered briefly what their little interactions might look like to an onlooker, and decided he just didn’t care, if only for a night. As he slipped into his seat, Legolas followed him down to whisper, “Don’t tell me you haven’t thought about it.” 

Fili flushed as the door slammed shut. As Legolas walked around the car to get in, Fili reached over quickly to lock the driver’s door from the inside, then laughed and laughed at the pissy face his date made when he realized he was locked out. It made something tighten in his chest. 

“Okay, okay,” he laughed as he flipped the switch.

Legolas climbed in and started the car. Fili realized he was being ignored. “Hey now,” he began.

Legolas ignored him the whole way out to the hills. Fili tapped his fingers against his knee, plotting ways to get back into his good graces and biding his time. The wheels of Legolas’s old Honda crunched on the dirt-and-gravel drive as they parked in the fading twilight. Legolas popped the trunk, grabbed a blanket and a flash light, and led the way.

“So,” Fili began.

Legolas raised an eyebrow.

“Why juice?” 

Legolas was feeling a bit foolish after trying his hand at seduction and failing. The question threw him. “Juice?”

“Yeah. Why is your family so hung up on juicing? Isn’t it kinda pointless?” Fili asked nonchalantly. 

“Pointless? Pointless! The nutrient levels of raw vegetables…” 

Fili smiled a little as his date passionately espoused the benefits of drinking one’s vegetables. He helped flatten the blanket when they got to their spot. When Legolas plopped down on one corner of the blanket he joined him, abet a bit closer than needed. They compared and complained their respective school course loads.

A loud pop caused them to fall silent and stare at the first bright carnation of fireworks. A cold breeze chose that moment to blow, making them shiver in tandem. 

Legolas smiled. “It’s colder than I had predicted.”

“Well, we do have a blanket,” Fili said as he sprang up.

“Well,” Legolas suggested as he stood up too, “I suppose we’ll have to share it.” He had thought that would mean the two of them side-by-side beneath his old blanket, which might lead to stealing a kiss if he was lucky. Instead, Fili pulled the blanket off of his shoulders. Just as Legolas was about to ask why out of the two of them, he was the one that freeze, Fili manouvered himself behind him so that Legolas was between his legs with his back warming his chest.

Legolas thought this was a great development, but it did cut down on the chance of kisses. It was warm though. He snuggled back a little before Fili gasped loudly, as Legolas had wiggled his butt right into Fili’s crotch. Fili fisted his hands in the blanket covering them. Thinking, Legolas deliberately ground back again and was rewarded with a groan.

“Man, you can’t do that,” Fili breathed out shakily.

Legolas leaned his head back as Fili leaned forward, causing their cheeks to rest against each other. “What’s wrong?” he asked, grinding again.

Fili tensed up. “Fuck,” he ground out as pants grew tight. He pulled Legolas’s head back onto his shoulder to kiss him with hunger. 

The fireworks continued bursting, but they paid them no mind.


End file.
